


Summerbird

by losingface



Category: Love Island (Video Game)
Genre: 80's, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Lifeguards, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst, Coming of Age, Eventual Relationships, F/M, First Love, Lifeguards, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, teenagers being teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 28
Words: 190,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21789943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/losingface/pseuds/losingface
Summary: In the summer of 1989, a 16 year old Bobby reluctantly travels to Magaluf, Spain with his family for their annual holiday. Via his boredom, he stumbles into a junior lifeguard programme, only to meet some weird and exciting individuals.The sun is hot, the girls are out of his league and the booze is flowing. What could go wrong?** on hiatus **
Relationships: Bobby/Main Character (Love Island), Bobby/Priya (Love Island)
Comments: 367
Kudos: 241





	1. The Junior Lifeguard Programme

**Author's Note:**

> happy saturday!
> 
> so, this idea came to me when rifling through the litg tag and i think all fandoms should have a multi-chapter, cheesy summer vacation au at some point, right?? and i just cannot stop picturing them all as young, stupid and innocent teenagers
> 
> can't wait to write more and hopefully you guys enjoy it!
> 
> edit: hey y'alls, i recently made a twitter (@l0singface) and a tumblr (losingface.tumblr.com) and i'm actually gonna use them lol, come talk to me !! it will mostly be for doodling and being stupid B-)

**

  
  


“Excuse me! _Excuse me!_ ”

Bobby’s vision is graced with a brightly coloured flyer.

“Have you seen this man?”

“What?” Bobby tugs his headphones off.

“Have you seen this man?” The woman pushes the flyer into his hands. “He’s my brother.”

“Uh -”

“If you do,” She taps on the piece of paper. “Call this number.”

Bobby watches as she walks off, shouting and waving more colourful flyers in peoples faces. He stands there for a few seconds, almost getting knocked out by two girls on roller skates flying past him. He doesn’t have time to compose himself when he gets bumped into from the other direction by a surfer and their board.

All he sees is a flash of bright yellow and long dark hair before they disappear into the crowd and down towards the beach.

It’s early June, peak time for tourists in Magaluf, often packed with Brits trying to escape their own sorry country for something more lively. It happened in waves, every summer, like geese migrating to get away from the cold.

The locals named them ‘summerbirds'.

And Bobby and his family were some of them.

He puts his headphones back on, haphazardly holding onto the flyer until it’s ripped out of his hands from the ocean breeze. He runs down the docks trying to chase it, blindly running into the railing as it flies over the end and into the sea. His heart sinks a little, watching the paper slowly descends and gently land on the water. It feels... a little disrespectful.

Bobby loves the ocean. Always has.

As harsh and cruel as the Scottish coasts were, he’s always found himself in it and loving every second. Some of his fondest memories stem from there, begging his father at a young age to drive him and his sister to the coast on the weekends. They always looked insane, running as fast as their legs could carry them on the heavy, soaked sand and into the freezing cold water.

Their dad always had to chase after them in the water when it was time to leave, fireman lifting them back to the car despite their protests. Bobby remembers fondly always wiggling free and running back to the beach, only to get grabbed again and be tickled into submission. He always cried with laughter, remembering how wide his dad smiled when he did.

It was a rush. A rush that Bobby would never get tired of.

So, you would think he would be at least a tiny bit excited when his mother announced they’re going to spend their entire summer break in a beach house in Spain.

“What?” Bobby groaned. He whipped his headphones off, the cassette fell out of his Walkman as it clattered to the floor.

“Terry has a beach house out in Spain. He thought it’d be fun to go for the summer. Bond more as a family.” She had said.

Terry. Ugh. His mother’s boyfriend.

“He is not my family.” Bobby shot back.

“Bobby -“

“I’m not going.” He said.

“Well, you are. You don’t have a say.”

“I’m saying right now. I am not going.”

“You are going.”

“I’m not.”

“You _are._ ”

He lost the argument, obviously. What 16 year old ever wins against their mother? So, now he’s here, in sunny Magaluf.

He looks over the railing of the docks again, searching for that probably long gone flyer, when his eyes immediately transfix on a sudden flash of a familiar, bright yellow that surfaces from the water. 

It’s a surfer.

A girl. The person he bumped into. Or bumped into him. Whatever.

Fuck. And she's _gorgeous._ Like, beyond gorgeous even - totally out of his league.

He watches as she gets up from the lying position on the board and sits up to straddle it. She throws her hair back, an arch of water following. It drips into her fluorescent swimsuit and onto her light brown skin, much like his own. She’s panting for breath, grinning to herself as she bobs in the water on her board. 

Bobby cannot stop staring.

She looks over in his direction, shielding her eyes from the sun as she tilts her head up and lifts her hand for a small wave. _Shit,_ he thinks, _Is she waving at me?_ Bobby doesn’t tear his gaze away, not realising he’s starting to lift his hand to wave back and -

“ _Poppy!_ ” 

Bobby is physically startled, whipping around to see where that bellowing voice came from. A large blond guy is shouting down to her, standing a meter or so adjacent to Bobby. Next to said blond guy is an even taller bloke, with dark skin and clean, tight cornrows. 

Bobby looks down again to see that surfer girl, Poppy he figures, is actually waving up at the blond dude, laughing at whatever shit joke is leaving his mouth right now. 

"You signed up?" Blond asks her.

“Of course!” She hollers back.

They talk back and forth for a few seconds longer until Poppy swims away, off to catch another wave. Bobby watches as she goes, eyes following the curves of her movement as her board rides over the water. She’s practically glistening, the water on her skin capturing the bright sun like they’re diamonds. 

“Hey, dude.”

Bobby freezes.

“You know Poppy?”

He slowly twists round to see that the two guys are looking at him, kind of intrigued and confused. Bobby panics, his mouth reacting before he even knows what he’s going to say. 

“Uh - yeah.” Fuck. He doesn’t know why he says _that_ , but he does.

“Really?” Blond guy looks surprised, standing up straighter.

“We -“ Bobby takes a second to think. He glances around to see some guys walking by with boards. “We used to surf together.”

“Sick!” The cornrow dude says. “You here for the programme too?”

“Programme?” Bobby’s face twists up in confusion.

“Junior lifeguard programme.” Blond guys butts in. 

“Oh! Yeah - yes. Yes I am.” He stutters. What the fuck, why is he still talking. Why did he say _that_. “She recommended it to me.” She absolutely did the fuck not.

“Oh.” Blond guy deflates a little. Bobby kinda likes that. 

“Awesome, man! We’ve done it the past couple of years.” Cornrows says, moving towards him and extending a hand out. “I’m Ibrahim.”

“Bobby.” He takes his hand, shaking it firmly and grinning up at him.

“That’s Gaz,” Ibrahim lets go of his hand and points a thumb behind him at blond guy, who is still not making the effort. “He’ll come around.”

Bobby laughs, surprised. 

“It’s _Gary_.” He says and steps over to them, arms folded.

“Nice to meet you, Gaz.” Bobby smiles. 

Gary’s face twitches, trying to hold back from correcting him. Ibrahim tries to hide his smile.

“I don’t remember seeing your name on the sign-up sheet.” Gary says, holding Bobby’s gaze for a few seconds too long.

“It was, uh -“ Bobby blinks. “Quite a last minute decision.”

Ibrahim just nods along, his smiley expression the complete opposite of Gary’s. 

“Right well,” Gary says and rubs his hands together. “Was nice to meet you mate, but we’re gonna take off.”

“What -“ Ibrahim starts.

“Gotta be up early for tomorrow.” Gary shoots Ibrahim a look.

“Oh, true. True.” Rahim nods and turns to Bobby. “See you here tomorrow, man.”

“Tomorrow?” Bobby is completely lost.

“Yeah. The programme.” Rahim laughs and claps him on the back.

"What, uh -" He blinks. "What time?"

"Seven." Rahim sighs.

“It starts at _seven?_ ”

Gary just rolls his eyes and starts walking off, broad shoulders dipping as he strides away. Rahim follows, walking backwards and still talking to Bobby, his voicing growing louder the further he gets from him.

“Yes! Catch them early waves! And _don’t_ be late! He hates it when you’re late!”

"What? Who does?!”

Ibrahim doesn't hear him, giving him a thumbs up and a smile as he keeps walking away and turning to follow Gary down the beach.

He turns back to look over the railing again, Poppy long gone by now.

The image of her stays in his head, that minute he spent looking at her looping in his mind. Bobby stands there for a while longer, watching the sparkling water as it rolls onto the sand and back. Kids are playing and screaming on the beach below, a distant white noise to him. 

What the fuck... has he just done. 

The sun starts to set, hazy and warm light settling itself on the beach. Bobby walks along the deck, watching as people skate and run past him. He finds himself staring at the notice board at the rear of the beach, papers blowing from the sea breeze. 

The Junior Lifeguard programme sign-up sits dead centre of the board, full of names and taunting him almost. His eyes skim through them, rapidly searching for one in particular. It's a hard feeling to describe when it lands on Poppy's name, he feels weirdly pulled in by this girl he doesn’t even know yet.

He reaches out to place his finger on her name, following the curves of the dried ink, copying what her movements would've been like. 

Bobby quickly looks around before diving into his bag, practically emptying it out on the sand to find a pen or anything to write with. He scribbles his name down as fast as he can before anyone questions him. Not like anyone would, but it feels weird he’s making this out of the blue and very unthought about decision. At least it will give him something to do.

He walks home with a little skip in his step, excited for the day ahead. Excited to get into the ocean. Excited to see her again.

The wooden steps up to Terry's beach house creek as he runs up them, still eager and energised from the day. Terry is out on the front porch, slouched in a lounge chair and fast asleep with a cigarette between his fingers.

Bobby stops to look at him, nose scrunching up when he lets out a loud snore. He quietly makes his way inside when Terry shifts in his sleep.

  
  


**

It’s 6am when his alarm rings. 

The summer sun already awake and spilling in through his blinds, streaks of light lining his bed. He groans, his hand aimlessly reaching for the off button. It clatters to the floor as soon as it comes into contact with him, making an even louder and more irritating sound. It makes him grit his teeth and wince.

He hasn’t actually told his mother he’s signed up for this lifeguard programme. He didn’t really see the need to. He’s 16. He can do what he wants, right? And if that means lying about where you go all day then so be it.

After an internal argument with himself, the voice in his head telling him it’s stupid and that he shouldn’t sneak around, he finally decides to leave. He walks quietly through the house, praying that no one wakes up. He lifts his middle finger up in the air when Terry’s snores travel through his bedroom door.

The sun is already high in the sky as he steps outside, heat enveloping his body immediately. He bops down the street, listening to whatever tape he left in his walkman last. Madonna’s _Material Girl_ starts as he arrives at the beach.

He makes his way over to a hut sitting at the rear of the beach, bag slung over his shoulders, still exhausted from getting little to no sleep last night. He spots a couple of other people milling about, waxing boards and suited up in what he can only describe as the Baywatch red swimsuits.

He asks where to go. They point him in the right direction. He gets a pair of the ridiculous red shorts. He puts them on in one of the public cubicles and strips his shirt off. He steps out to look at himself in the mirror. 

He feels like an idiot.

He doesn’t _look_ like a lifeguard. He’s a little scrawny, not fully formed into that swimmer body that he’s been told he’s gonna get his whole life. He pokes his arm and frowns. He frowns even more when he tries to flex and not impressed with the results.

Bobby’s still staring at himself in the mirror when the bathroom door swings open. A flustered, lanky looking guy walks in, coughing and trying to suck in air. Bobby stands frozen for a second before rushing over to his backpack still in the cubicle.

He takes his inhaler out, pushing it into the hand of lanky kid. He accepts it immediately, taking a puff and wheezing. Bobby just stares, not sure to do, looking down to see he’s in red swim trunks too. The kid takes another puff of his inhaler before groaning and slumping back on the wall.

They’re quiet for a little while, lanky kid’s wheezing gradually subsiding the only sound in the room.

“You okay, man?” Bobby asks, finally.

“Yeah.” The lanky guy’s voice breaks. He coughs and whacks his chest. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” He sighs and stands up straight, away from the wall.

Bobby looks down at the other guys red shorts again.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“You do?” Bobby cracks a timid smile.

“Can a guy be a lifeguard with asthma?” He shakes his head. “Probably not.” 

He tosses the inhaler back to Bobby.

"Thanks," He says as Bobby catches it. "Forgot mine today."

“Do they know you have asthma?”

“Nah, fuck that. I’ve always wanted to be a lifeguard. My shitty lungs aren’t gonna stop me.”

“They will when you drown.” Bobby laughs.

The other guy laughs too, his smile spreading wide across his face. He looks a little calmer now. He points at Bobby’s red trunks.

“Hey!” He grins and looks Bobby in the face. “You can save me when I drown.”

Bobby spreads his arms wide and grins.

“I can only do so much.”

They both laugh.

“I’m Noah.” Lanky kid says and holds out his fist. 

“Bobby.” He smiles and bumps his fist with Noah’s.

They find themselves out on the white sand a few minutes later, their attention getting snapped up by the harsh sound of a piercing whistle. 

It’s a scorcher today, spanish sun blasting down on everyone even at 7am. Bobby can feel his skin start to prickle where he probably didn’t apply his sun lotion on properly

Everyone’s lined up in two rows and facing each other. Bobby’s facing Noah, at the end of their respective rows. He scans his eyes around everyone, landing on Gary’s for a second, who’s also surveying the group. The blond rolls his eyes and looks forward again.

Everyone’s got their hands clasped together behind their backs, like they’re fucking body guards or some shit. He couldn’t see their instructor anywhere. They stand on the hot sand for a while longer, no one talking or tearing their gaze from in front of them.

Bored of waiting, Bobby starts making dumb faces at Noah, watching as he tries his absolute darnedest not to crack up. Their positions remind Bobby of Soul Train for a second and makes him snicker at the idea of dancing down the space between everyone with Noah. 

He flinches, barely, as he feels something brush up against his arm. He turns to see the latecomer, stomach dropping out his ass as their face comes into view.

It’s Poppy.

She notices him looking and gives him a wink before turning back to face forward. Bobby doesn't have butterflies in his stomach, it feels like full blown fireworks.

“You’re late.” A loud voice cuts through. 

“I know.” Poppy smiles.

"Why are you late?" The voice is getting closer.

"I just am. Chill out Iain." She shakes her head.

Bobby tenses as her long hair brushes against him again. Jesus Christ.

" _Stirling_." The man says as he comes into view, pointing at Poppy's face.

He’s not exceptionally tall, but he’s lean and toned enough for you to not question him. He’s got on a ball cap, accompanied by some aviators. They’re the reflective kind that Bobby hates, as you can’t actually see the person's eyes. Flowing, dark blond hair spills out the back of his hat, looking the complete opposite to his rough and scratchy looking stubble.

“ _Stirling_. Sorry.” She says and huffs.

“Lap of the beach. Go.” Stirling says.

Poppy goes to protest but he blows his whistle, the sharp sound cutting her off and making a few of them jump. She rolls her eyes before jogging off.

“Well,” Stirling smiles and starts pacing between everyone, eyeing them up and down. “Good morning, champs.”

The majority of them reply in unison. 

“There’s about 20 of you folks. By the end of the summer, that number _will_ dwindle.” Stirling starts. “Some of you could get the chop. Some might even spit out the dummy.”

“ _Anyone_ can swim in a pool. Anyone can _want_ to do the right thing. But… not anyone can wrangle the vicious mistress that is the sea. Not anyone can be a lifeguard.”

“Now. I see that we have been graced with a few new fresh fish this year.” Stirling skims down the list of names. “I expect you guppies to be on even _better_ form than the rest of this sorry lot.”

“You will find out what kinda man, or woman, you are in that water.” He points towards the sea. The early morning sun bouncing off of it, making it sparkle. “And it’s my job to get that person out of you wildcats.”

Everyone continues to stay still, fear spreading over some faces and excitement over others. Bobby has a mix of both.

“And I’ll tell you what,” Stirling smiles and stops his pacing. “I’m looking forward to it.”

He blows his whistle again, even louder than before.

“Right!” Stirling shouts, voice carrying over the beach. “Let's kick off with some buoy swims.”

“Lets starts with,” He whips out the clipboard he’s been holding and points to a random name. “Henrik!”

Bobby watches, his knees locked in fear, as everyone’s names get randomly called out and then wildly run towards the water as fast as they could.

Poppy returns from her run, obviously not finishing it as she hasn’t even broken a sweat. She watches the buoy swims with her hands on her hips before tapping Bobby on the shoulder.

“You ever done a buoy swim?” She asks, leaning into him slightly.

Before Bobby can speak, he's cut off by Gary as he makes his way over to them.

"Poppy. Alright?" He grins and gives her a squeeze on the shoulder.

"Always alright, Gaz. How's it going?"

"Not bad." He looks between them both. "So, Bobby told me you used to surf together."

Oh, shit.

"Oh, yeah?" Poppy's eyes light up for a split second and she gives Bobby a little smirk.

"Yeah." Gary frowns.

Bobby must be staring at Poppy with wide, pleading eyes because something clicks in her expression and she starts smiling to herself. 

"Oh yeah, we go _way_ back." She smiles and slings an arm around Bobby's shoulders.

He has no idea why, but she's going along with it. He feels like he's on fire the longer she keeps her arm around him.

"You… do?" Gary looks a bit shocked.

"Yeah." She says. They both watch Gary's face travel through confusion. He makes a grunt sound before he walks off without saying anything else.

Poppy turns to Bobby, laughing hysterically when Gary's out of ear shot. She punches Bobby on the arm and shakes her head at him. He is so entranced by her laugh that he barely registers her hitting him.

"Thanks -" Bobby starts but is cut off.

"I remember you, now. I saw you yesterday." 

"You did?" Bobby's face drops, his blush hidden from the redness on his face already from the bright sun.

"Yeah, you were on the docks." She smiles, a little challenge in her eyes.

“You watching me?” He says, his voice light and teasing.

She looks shocked and then starts laughing again, her eyes crinkling at the edges. Wow, Bobby really is not going to get tired of that sound.

“Hm,” She says and raises an eyebrow. “I think it was the other way around.”

"Me? Watching? Nah, you got the wrong guy." Bobby laughs. He is acting way smoother than how he is feeling.

"Uh-huh, okay." She smiles. "Tell me next time you are, though."

Bobby's stomach flutters. He can't tell if she's being nice or flirty or what. He can't believe she's even talking to him. She smiles and holds a fist out for him to bump. Her grin grows wider when he does.

“Poppy! You’re up!” Stirling shouts.

“Nice to meet you, Bobby.” She says as she starts slowly walking backwards away from him. He stares as she turns and runs towards the sea.

He felt good. A warmth rising through his body as he watched her walk away, like she was the sun itself.

He did not feel good, however, when it was time for his first buoy swim.

As he understood it, a buoy swim is when you swim as hard and as fast as you can to a buoy out in the open water and back again. It didn’t sound that hard, but it is. 

The Mediterrenean sea looked inviting, like it was meant for swimming, stretching out onto the beach like a finger trying to reel you in. It’s the bluest water Bobby has ever seen. 

So when he got into it he wasn’t expecting to hit by a cold and harsh reality. He swam for what felt like his life, arms already tired and not even close to the buoy yet. He was fighting against the ocean, completely out of sync with it.

Stirling watched as Bobby finally got back out of the water. He felt numb, legs not entirely working as he tried to walk up the wet sand, back to his peers. Stirling barely glances at him as Bobby trudges past gasping for breath, stopwatch tight in his grip and expression completely masked by his hat and sunglasses.

It wasn’t good.

And Bobby didn’t feel good.

He sat back on the sand, next to Noah. Bobby was still fighting with his lungs for breath, trying to make them work again but they just weren’t having it. This must be what Noah felt like all the time. He hears Gary murmur something and the people around him snicker and giggle, giving Bobby a quick glance before turning back. 

Yeah. It really wasn’t good. And it didn’t get any better from there.

Stirling threw everything he could muster at them. They did strength training on the beach, Stirling called it Sandwork. It’s brutal. Between doing sit-ups, wheelbarrows races and jumping jacks in the scorching hot sun, Bobby was ready to collapse when the day finally winded down.

He walks home with Noah in silence, his home not too far away from where Bobby was staying. When Bobby was about to say his goodbyes, Noah piped up.

“You wanna get a slushie?” He says, pointing at a little corner shop across the street from them.

Bobby wasn’t sure. But he was more sure that he didn’t wanna go home straight away. 

“Sure.” 

About 10 minutes later they find themselves sitting on the pavement outside, passing back and forth a huge, bright blue slushie. Noah sticks out his tongue at him and Bobby does the same. They both start laughing to find they’ve been dyed bright blue.

They stay there for a couple hours, talking back and forth complete nonsense, their tiredness from the day and sudden sugar rush making them feel a bit loopy. They’re lying back on the tarmac, rucksacks under their heads and feet at the edge of the road. The blue sky is melting into a lush hue of pink, dusted with yellow clouds that reflect the setting sun.

"That one," Bobby points to a cloud. "That kinda looks like a foot."

Noah starts giggling and Bobby turns to face him, confused.

“Oh my god. I swear down, Stirling has like… a foot fetish.” Noah says up into the air.

“What?” Bobby bursts out laughing.

“He made us do that wheelbarrow thing! Did you not see the look on his face when I had to grab your feet?”

“Can’t see shit when he wears those sunglasses.”

“And he kept telling us how to place our feet when we run on the sand.”

“I think that was a genuine thing.”

“Plus, he was really, _really,_ enthusiastic when he told us about peeing on someone’s foot when they got stung by a jellyfish that one time.”

“Oh, yeah.” Bobby giggles. “You might be right.”

“I _am_ right!” Noah laughs.

They're both laughing hysterically when someone zips past their heads on a penny board. Bobby recognises that long brown hair anywhere. He sits up quickly, his foot hitting the slushie next to him and knocking it to the ground. He watches Poppy kick her board up into her hand, the little bell rings when she walks inside the shop. 

“You know her?” Noah asks as he sits up as well.

“No.” Bobby murmurs. 

He doesn’t tear his gaze away, craning his neck to look through the window. 

“But you wish you did?” Noah starts laughing at him.

“What?”

“Mate. It’s all over your face.”

“That obvious?”

“Yeah.” Noah laughs. “She’s older than us, you know.”

“I know.” He sighs.

That was true. Poppy is 18. A woman would have no interest in boys.

“Also, you knocked the rest of the slushie over and haven’t even realised.” Noah points to the ground, where the blue syrup is still pouring out of the cup and into the road.

Noah starts laughing as Bobby whips around and swears as he picks up the cup quickly, some of the slushie splashing onto his shorts.

They don’t stay there for much longer, Noah practically dragging Bobby away before Poppy comes back outside. The sky dips into darkness as they go their separate ways home. The long day finally settles in as Bobby walks up the steps to the house, the ache burning deep in his muscles. As Bobby closes the front door, his mother calls out to him.

“Bobby?”

Bobby sighs and makes his way down the hall to the kitchen to see Terry and his sister at the dinner table and his mum standing by the fridge.

“Hi.” He says.

“Hi, sweetie.” She walks over to give Bobby’s head a quick kiss. “Good day?”

“Yeah, really good. I -”

“You’re covered in sand.” Terry interrupts, looking him up and down.

“I am.” Bobby’s jaw tightens. “I was at the beach.”

“All day?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“ _Yes._ ”

They room is quiet. Bobby’s sister ducks her head and continues eating whatever they’re having for dinner.

“Well, can you not bring it into the house, next time?”

“Okay. Sure.” 

He turns and walks out of the kitchen, refusing dinner when his mum calls out to him again. He makes sure he shakes off as much sand as possible as he stomps up the stairs to his room. Fuck you, Terry. 

**

The next morning, he meets Noah at the corner shop. The fluorescent blue stain from the slush puppy is still imbedded in the pavement outside. 

They’ve dubbed it the Slushie Spot. Seagulls are cawing and wailing above them, hungry and ready for today’s tourists, as they walk to the beach together. As they start making their way over to the Lifeguard Tower, Noah changes conversation.

“I can do a backflip, y’know.” Noah brings up out of the blue.

Bobby stops in his path and gives him a look, as if to say ‘yeah right’.

“I can!” Noah says. “Watch.”

He chucks his bag on the sand and flicks his shoes off, out of the way. Bobby stands back and crosses his arms in anticipation, kind of curious but knows he’s bullshitting. Noah straightens his arms out in front of him before bending his knees and pushing himself up and backwards into the air.

His legs flail as he tries to spin in the air and he collides into a short, blonde girl who isn’t paying attention. Bobby didn’t even see her until Noah’s feet smack into her face. They both fall back into the sand, Noah on top and crushing her. Bobby shouldn’t be laughing, but he is. Hard and loud. His stomach is on fire from how hard he’s laughing.

“Oh my God!” Noah scrambles up and off the girl he’s just accidently WWE smacked down into the sand. “Holy shit. Shit. _Shit,_ ” He holds a hand out for her. Bobby is rolling on the floor. “Are you okay?”

“Are you crazy?” The blonde yells as she sits ups and rubs her face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so _so_ sorry, I -” 

“That’s not how you do a backflip!” She hollers as she gets up.

Noah straightens up and Bobby’s laughing subsides slightly. He recognises her. She’s wearing one of the Baywatch swimsuits under some cotton shorts.

“Wait, what?” Noah is very confused.

“Your stance was all wrong. You were pointing your feet outward.” She grumbles and looks at him seriously as she points to his toes. “They have to be straight.”

“Are you… okay?” Bobby says as he finally stops laughing.

“Yeah.” She shrugs.

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” She rolls her eyes, like it’s a dumb question. “Jesus. It’s just a kick to the face.” 

She says that like it’s a normal thing. Hm. She’s weird, Bobby decides. She keeps talking, both of them not knowing what to say.

“This is how you do a backflip.” She holds her finger up, like she’s telling them to wait.

She bends her knees, her body flipping quickly as she launches herself into the air, her arms and legs tucked in neatly. She lands on the sand with her arms stuck out for balance, not even taking a step back as she lands it damn near perfect. Noah just gawks.

The boys start clapping and she does a little curtsey.

“You have to teach me that.” Noah says.

“Sure.” She grins. “I’m Chelsea.”

“Noah.” He says and then points to Bobby. “This is Bobby.”

Bobby gives her a small wave and smiles. She points to the Lifeguard tower where people are starting to gather. 

“We’re gonna be late.” She says and walks past them.

They were.

**

Bobby and Noah are sitting on the sand during lunch, exhausted from the extra buoy swims they had to do from their tardiness. Bobby's staring out at the ocean as Noah chews loudly on a sandwich next to him. Bobby's eyes are starting to droop staring at the soothing, rhythmic waves. 

His attention snaps back as some of the girls walk past with their boards. Two of them are talking loudly about something, he thinks they’re called Lottie and Marisol. Poppy is striding behind at her own pace. Her wet hair curtains her back, blocking the red straps stretching across her shoulders and back that Bobby has become so infatuated with.

They stop next to where the guys are playing volleyball a few metres or so away. Rocco spikes the ball into the sand with precision and speed as Poppy sets her board down and ties up her hair.

"Do you know how to surf?" Bobby asks, not really turning to Noah but directing the question at him. His eyes can't tear away from in front of them.

"Nah." Noah responds, food still in his mouth. "Wish I could though."

"Me too." Bobby breathes out.

They both watch as Poppy kneels down next to her board, grabbing some wax out of one of the boys' bags sitting on the sand. Bobby can feel his skin prickle, watching the curves of her body move, wrapped up in that stupid, amazing red swimsuit.

His heart just about jumps up into his throat when she gets onto all fours and stretches over the board to start waxing it. How does one describe a person's bum without sounding totally gross? Bobby certainly doesn't.

It was like looking at two perfect peaks, glowing in the sunshine from the water on her skin. She sits back on her legs for a second as she works the wax down the board close to her and then bends over again. Bobby is very, very jealous of the grains of sand sticking to her skin.

Noah is too engrossed in his food to know what's going on until he catches Bobby's gaze and follows his eyeline.

"Oh. Wow." Noah says, the sandwich in his hands moving away from his mouth as he starts gawking.

"I know." Bobby muses.

They both look like idiots, eyes wide and not blinking. Well, they are idiots. Innocent teenagers that don't know any better. Bobby tenses, the familiar feeling of blood rushing to his crotch and whatever is left travelling up to his face to sit under his freckles.

He can't tell if it's the view or the sun that's making him sweat - actually, he knows it's not the sun that's making him sweat. He shifts slightly, to hide the wood growing between his legs and bites his lip when it brushes along the inside mesh of his trunks, sending sparks up his spine. 

God damn it.

He tries to look away but… holy shit. Poppy stretches over the board again and - and then it happens. It’s like the planets align. His first glance at a girl’s pubic hair. She sits back on her legs again and he has to bite his fist from how ridiculously frustrated he is.

It’s in that moment Bobby realises Poppy is a woman among girls.

"Who are we staring at?" Chelsea asks and plops down next to them on her towel.

They both jump from her voice. Noah drops his sandwich in the sand and makes a sad noise. Bobby's eyes go wide and cradles his knees up to his chest, realising he's sporting the biggest hard-on ever, next to people he’s met literally in the past 2 days. They’re too caught up in Noah’s sandwich to realise he’s acting weird.

"Chelsea!" Noah whines, looking sadly at his sandwich coated in sand. He picks it up and starts flicking at the grains. It's a lost cause but that doesn't stop him from trying. “My poor sandwich.”

"Karma." She smiles over at him. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

“It’s Bobby’s girlfriend.” Noah points.

“Dude!” Bobby’s eyes go wide and he hits Noah’s arm. “Don’t point.”

“Sorry, I stand corrected. He _wishes_ she was his girlfriend.”

“Please stop talking.” Bobby groans, bringing his legs closer to his chest.

“Ah,” Chelsea nods and also starts staring. “Can see why.”

This is literally the worst moment of his life. Bobby has to get rid of this boner, like, right now. Noah starts blowing on his sandwich trying to get the sand off and Chelsea laughs at him.

"Yeah. A nice butt just," Noah shrugs. "Has to be looked at."

"Okay, but do you have to stare?" She raises an eyebrow at him. “Whatever happened to a passing glance. Or y’know, not looking?”

"Well - no," He frowns. "No, I guess we don't." 

“And would you like it if I stared at you?”

“Well -“

“Actually. Don’t answer that.”

Bobby sits there, his face burning hot from embarrassment, listening to them bicker for a while longer. He looks around, heart hammering in his chest, trying to think of what to do. Poppy's still stretching over her board, all beautiful and Poppy-like, it's sending his heart into overdrive.

"Chelsea, I need your towel." He blurts out.

"What?"

"Your towel!"

"Why?" She looks panicked.

"Just -" He grabs it and starts tugging it from underneath her. 

It sends a bunch of sand flying all over them as he gets it free.

"Bobby!" She shrieks.

"Dude! My sandwich!" Noah shouts at the same time, dropping it again.

They all jump up. Bobby manically wraps the towel around his lower half before sprinting off down the beach. Noah and Chelsea stare, then look at each other before watching Bobby run towards the water again.

He must look ridiculous, he knows it - running wildly towards the ocean with Chelsea's Barbie Girl towel wrapped around him. Everyone watches as he passes the volleyball net, Henrik is so confused he lets the ball fly past him and onto the ground.

Sand is flying up and everywhere as he runs past the lifeguard tower. Stirling shoots up in his seat to watch him.

Bobby flings the towel off himself before crashing into the ocean, legs flailing as he gets deeper and deeper until he's submerged. His arms start working automatically, stretching out and pushing the water away from him.

The ocean is cold and calm, subsiding the fire in his belly and between his legs. He's barely thinking, just working his arms and legs as best as he can. He swims all the way out to the buoy, his strokes strong and timed perfectly that he's gliding through the water almost effortlessly.

He's panting as he steps out of the water and back onto the sand, hard-on long gone. He grabs Chelsea's towel and slings it over his shoulder. Stirling is waiting by the lifeguard tower with his arms crossed, his expression hidden by his aviators.

"Best swim yet." Stirling states as Bobby starts to walk past.

"Huh?" Bobby halts and takes a step back to look at him.

"Your best swim." Stirling says, holding up a stopwatch. He taps it. “Yet.”

Marisol and Lottie are walking to the water with their boards by the time he walks away from Stirling. They’re looking at him like he’s crazy and he keeps his head ducked. Poppy’s walking behind a few paces and catches his eye. Bobby just looks away.

He's trying to hide his smile by the time he reaches Chelsea and Noah. They're looking at him, waiting for him to talk but he hands Chelsea her towel and sits back on the ground, just like before. He sits in silence with his legs crossed, stretching his arms behind him to lean back on the sand.

Noah and Chelsea stand and stare at him in silence until one of them bursts.

"What the fuck." Chelsea exclaims and drops down next to him. "Are you okay?"

“I’m fine.” Bobby says.

He’s more than fine. He feels surprisingly amazing.

“What the fuck was that?” Noah gestures, his sandwich breaking apart in his hand.

Bobby watches as Poppy jumps into the ocean with her board. This is going to be a long summer.

“My best swim yet.” He smiles up at them.

**


	2. Guppies

**

Day three. Okay, we can handle day three. The first two sessions had been… kinda rough. And hard. Especially yesterday. 

Sure, it was nice getting the tiniest bit of gratification from Stirling. And yeah it was nice that he was making new friends. And he’s really loving not being stuck at home. But, his thoughts are literally all over the place. Everything that comes into his mind are sandwiched between brief thoughts of Poppy.

It was embarrassing and he didn’t know what to do about it. But, he certainly _did not_ wake up this morning so hard that he was pitching a tent with his covers and certainly _did not_ climax so forceful in the shower that his knees wobbled like they never have before.

Absolutely not.

Everyone’s out on the beach, listening to Stirling go off on whatever they’re going to do today. Bobby’s spacing out, still thinking of what he should do about this ridiculous crush, not taking in what Chelsea and Noah are whispering and giggling about.

“Freckles.” Stirling says. “C’mere.”

He’s still staring into the distance when Noah pinches his arm. He jumps, only to then realise that everyone‘s eyes are on him. Bobby can’t tell if Stirling is staring at him or not. Come to think of it, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Stirling’s full face yet, those stupid aviators always in the way.

“Me?” Bobby points to himself.

“Yes you. You see anybody else with constellations on their face?”

Bobby blushes, listening to a couple of the others giggle. He makes his way over to him as Stirling points to Noah and Chelsea to come over as well. He motions for them to turn around and face the others.

“Now,” Stirling starts, pushing his sunglasses up his nose slightly. “It has come to my attention that I have completely overlooked that we have three Guppies this summer.”

He gestures towards them. Another one of the senior lifeguards, Caroline, strolls over to Stirling and hands him a black marker.

“Every team needs a bit of fresh meat. And it is our duty to guide them. Teach them. Nurture them.”

He dramatically uncaps the marker and stands behind Bobby. He freezes when Stirling starts writing on his back, between his shoulders.

“But most importantly, we push them.”

He moves over to write on Chelsea’s back and then Noah’s.

“I expect great things. From all of you. But, it is our duty to keep you grounded as well. Which is why, just like those before you, you will receive your guppie name.”

Bobby tries to twist his neck so he can read the writing on his back. He hears Gary’s laughter comes out of nowhere when his back turns towards the rest of the group. He turns to see Noah trying to look at his back as well.

“What’s mine say?” Noah panics, facing his back to Bobby.

“Wheezy.” Bobby tries not to smile when Noah grimaces. “What’s mine?”

Stirling smiles to himself.

“Orion.” Noah laughs. They both turn to Chelsea.

She silently shuffles around to put her back on show for them to read.

“Barbie.” Bobby and Noah read her back at the same time.

“Ugh.” She frowns.

“Right!” Stirling blows the whistle hanging off his neck. “Let's do drills. Fireman’s lift first.”

He lines everyone up, picking at random who carries who depending on whatever the hell he fancies. When it comes to Gary’s turn, Stirling pairs him up with Chelsea.

“I’m not pairing up with him.” Chelsea says flatly.

“Don’t worry darling, you’ll be in good hands.” Gary wiggles his fingers jokingly but his efforts are no match to the whirlwind that is the blonde bomb a foot shorter than him.

“What did you just say?” She straightens up. “Don’t call me darling.”

"Chelsea, c'mon -" He moves towards her.

"Touch me and I'll break those suckers off." She points to his fingers.

Stirling laughs.

“Uh -“ Gary’s mouth snaps shut and looks to Stirling for direction.

Stirling just stares back smirking and letting the stopwatch continue, Gary’s time inflating. Chelsea crosses her arms, death glare fixed on Gary. He gives up in a huff, walking to the back of the line.

Chelsea gladly accepts when she's paired up with Henrik instead.

As Bobby’s waiting his turn, someone taps him on the shoulder. It’s Priya, to his surprise, as they’ve barely spoken to each other since he's joined. They’ve just been giving a polite nod or smile when their paths cross. The extent of their relationship was when Bobby gave her an extra 20p in the corner shop the other day when she didn’t have enough cash to buy a drink.

“Hey.” She smiles at him.

“Hey. You alright?” Bobby looks a little suspicious.

“Oh, yeah.” She nods. She pauses for a second and points to the writing on his back. “Just for the record, I don’t think your face looks like constellations.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Bobby smiles back, his guarded stance melting a little bit. “But he’s kinda right,” He gestures to himself. “I’m like a goddamn galaxy. And it’ll only get worse in the sun.”

Priya laughs, which makes him laugh as well. She has a dimple on her left cheek, which Bobby’s never noticed. It’s cute.

“Did you have a guppy name?” He asks.

“Mhm. Train Tracks.”

“Train Tracks?”

“Yeah. It’s much better than what the guys actually called me.” She grins wide and points to her mouth before talking again. “I had braces the summer I joined.”

“Really? Never would’ve guessed you’d had braces.” 

“Thanks.” She smiles at him again.

"What did the guys call you?"

Priya's face twitches, like she wants to laugh but is also embarrassed. She twists her hair in her hands.

"Pecker Wrecker."

Bobby snorts and covers his mouth.

"That's -"

"Not good." She laughs and finishes for him.

They talk for a little longer, only to get caught out by Stirling when Priya cries with laughter at something he says. He pairs them up for the drills. Priya tries to hide her smile when Bobby tries to lift her off the ground.

  
  


**

  
  


“What’s Scotland like?” Chelsea asks at lunch later on.

She’s chomping on some red vines, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looks over to Bobby. He sits up on his elbows where he’s been lying on the sand, exhausted from this morning.

"You're from Scotland?" Noah mumbles, sucking ketchup off his fingers from the hotdog he's just devoured.

"You're so gross." Chelsea passes him a napkin, which he refuses. "Have you even been listening to Bobby?"

"I listen to Bobby."

"But you can't hear my accent?" Bobby teases.

"Nah."

"Really?"

"You are the last person to be taking the piss out of someone's attention, lover boy." Noah nods over to where Poppy and some others are sitting.

"Touché."

"You're talking to her, right?" Chelsea asks, shuffling closer and lowering her voice.

“Kind of." He frowns. “Actually, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Chelsea stifles her laugh.

“How can you not know?” Noah adds.

“She’s - I don’t…” Bobby tries to think. “I feel like I know what to say to her. Like, I always think about what to say to her, but I just can’t talk to her.”

“You think about her?” Noah twists his words, raising his eyebrows at him and smirks.

“Dude. No.” Bobby glares at him.

“Ahh, you _think_ about her. Gotcha.”

Bobby kicks sand at him.

“Oh, c’mon! We’ve all done it.” Noah throws his hands in the air.

Chelsea does agree with him them, a thoughtful look on her face.

“Yeah, I guess.” She shrugs. “Doesn’t mean Bobby has to talk about it.”

Noah perks up a little bit then.

“Will you talk about it?”

“Sure.” Chelsea shrugs again. 

“Do you think about guys like we think about girls?”

“I guess. I don’t see how it would be any different.”

“It must be different, because we’re,” He points between himself and then her. “Different.”

“I suppose…”

“And do you… y’know.” He widens his eyes are her.

“What?” She laughs. 

“Y’know.” Noah gestures with his hands. When Chelsea gives him a blank look he gestures again, more towards his nether regions. “ _Y’know._ ”

“If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, you need to think again.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to get into your head.” Noah shrugs and holds his hands up in defeat. “I am merely here to learn.”

“Learn something else.” She quips.

Bobby laughs, shaking his head at them both as they exchange careful words. God, if it were only as easy to talk to Poppy like they do with Chelsea.

He only ever spoke to Poppy in passing moments, exchanging a few words before their attention goes elsewhere. It wasn’t like he could waltz up to her and start a conversation. That’s weird, right? Do people go up to others they like and just start talking to them?

“Hey.” Priya pops up behind them all, making Noah jump and gasp.

“ _Christ,_ ” Noah grabs his chest. “You’re gonna set off my asthma!”

“Sorry.” Priya frowns. They all stare at her as she stands there for a beat of silence. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No.” They all say at the same time.

Priya frowns, not convinced.

“You’re not.” Chelsea says quickly to reassure her.

“Okay. Can I join you guys?” She says and points next to Chelsea.

“Uh -“ Chelsea’s eyes dart between the boys. “Sure, why not.”

“Wait, wait.” Noah holds his hands up. “Do you have any goods?”

“Goods?”

“Goods.” Noah states and points to the brown paper bag she’s got her lunch in. “I’m starving.”

“He wants food.” Bobby rolls his eyes and gives Priya a smile.

“Oh!” The bag rustles as she opens it. Noah catches a banana as she tosses it his way. “Is that okay?”

Noah just nods, gesturing for her to sit down. Priya makes herself comfy on the sand, next to them all. When Noah asks Priya if she also does _y’know,_ Chelsea throws a red vine at his head.

**

"Can I have go?" 

"Yeah. Just - just five more minutes, Chels." 

"You said that five minutes ago!"

"Well, ask Bobby! It's his, not mine."

"Noah!"

Chelsea lunges at him then, spilling her slush as she tries to grab the Gameboy out of his grasp. Noah jumps up and holds it above his head when she scrambles up as well.

They're hanging out at the Slushie Spot, late afternoon after another day of strenuous training. Bobby's sat up against the shopfront, watching them both bicker over his Gameboy. He hates that thing, a gift from Terry after he first started dating his mother.

"Guys," Bobby says, watching them wrestle right in front of him. "Calm down." He doesn't really mean it.

Chelsea, somehow, gets Noah on the ground, sits on his back and twists his arm behind him. She is freakishly strong for such a little 16 year old. Noah yelps, like a dog, and let's the Gameboy fall out of his hand.

"Chels! _Ow_!" He groans. “Mercy!”

She lets go of him and sits back on the pavement, laughing as she grabs the console. Noah sits close by and watches her play. In about 30 seconds she gets bored.

“I don’t even wanna play this anymore.” She frowns, mashing the buttons.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t know how.” Noah laughs.

“Fuck off.” She says, not really meaning it, and then looks at Noah. “Help me.”

They all sit there for another hour or so. Bobby stares into space, his attention only focusing when people walk in and out of the corner shop, praying that someone in particular is going to drop by. It doesn’t happen. Thankfully, Chelsea ends his suffering for him.

“I’m gonna take off.” She passes the Gameboy back to Bobby. “It’s getting kinda late. Mum’s gonna flip her lid.”

“Yeah.” Noah sighs. “Suppose I should head back, too.”

Bobby frowns to himself, not really wanting to leave, but he can’t force them to stay. 

Bobby decides to go back to the beach. Better than going home, right? He shivers slightly, the sand much colder on his feet than it was earlier today. The last of the tourists are starting to pack up their belongings, vacating the beach after soaking up the sun all day.

Bobby walks over to the Lifeguard Tower and up the ramp to the door. He peers through the glass, hand over his brows to get a better look. It’s empty.

He twists the handle, not expecting anything, but it opens. _Maybe Stirling forgot to lock it_ , he thinks. His steps are quiet as he slowly makes his way inside. The smell of the ocean overwhelms him, equipment and gear all over the place, stacked haphazardly.

The painterly sky is spilling in through the windows, streaks of light sitting on the floor and walls. Bobby gently pokes through some of the surfboards stacked up by the door, envious of anyone who can use them.

He spots and moves over to Stirling’s desk on the other side of the room, littered with papers and old coffee cups. And lots of sunglasses. He’s got one of those bobble, hawaiin girls. He laughs to himself when he gives it a flick and it starts swaying side to side. He pokes through his stuff for a little while, not really searching for anything but just bored out of his mind. 

His attention snaps to a bright blue corner of paper, sitting under a stack of other crap on the desk. He gently tugs at it, revealing one of the missing person flyers he got given the other day. 

Bobby hadn’t been able to fully read it before it was whisked out of his hands. Goosebumps rise on his skin, feeling a little creeped out as he stares at the face plastered on the flyer.

The person looks so young. A little older than Bobby, but definitely younger than 20. It’s a little scary, knowing this person has their whole life ahead of them and it’s potentially been taken away. Bobby puts the flyer back on the desk, letting out a shaky breath.

He decides to go through the rest of the desk, opening the first drawer. There’s a rolled up cigarette sitting on top of some books and other Stirling things. Bobby picks it up and examines it for a second. It doesn’t look like a cigarette. He gives it a sniff. Hm, doesn’t smell like a cigarette either. He puts it back. 

The wall above the desk is littered with photos and some newspaper cuttings. Bobby leans over to get a closer look, some of them dating back to as far as the early 70’s. There’s a few photos of the previous groups he’s trained too. 

He looks at the one dated ‘1985’ to find Poppy front and centre, grinning at the camera surrounded by some more familiar faces. Ibrahim’s to her left and Marisol to her right. They all look so young.

“Hey.”

Bobby startles, banging his knee on the desk. It rattles a couple of things and the little bobble, hawaiian girl falls down.

“ _Agh!_ ” He groans. “Jesus.” He looks over to see Poppy standing in the doorway with her surfboard. “Fuck - you scared me.”

"Sorry." She laughs and steps inside after resting her board up against the window. "Didn't realise anybody would be in here."

"I probably shouldn't, to be honest." He says.

She’s soaked, in that familiar, bright yellow swimsuit he first saw her in. He watches as she rakes her fingers through her wet hair and ties it up neatly on her head before pulling on some shorts from her bag.

"You snooping?" She smiles and walks over next to him, she rifles through the papers on the desk like he did.

"No." He tries.

Poppy gives him a look, a little smirk playing on her face.

"Okay. Yes." He laughs. "I'm bored. And I don't wanna go home."

"Mmm. Tell me about it." She hums. "S'why I surf when everyone's gone."

“I didn’t find anything interesting either.”

“Oh? There’s normally something interesting lying about.” She murmurs.

He watches as she opens Stirling's drawer and makes a happy sound when she sees that weird cigarette he found earlier. She plucks it up and reaches over to tuck it behind his ear. He's frozen as she moves her hand away, fireworks about to set off in his stomach again.

"Keep that." She says and points to his ear. "For a special occasion." 

Bobby nods, dumbly, words stuck in his throat. He doesn’t know what it is, but he trusts her.

"Why don't you wanna go home?" She asks, suddenly. Bobby just blinks at her.

"I - Uh, I… just don’t want to." 

He can feel the tension in the room build but she nods understanding, melting it away again. Bobby silently thanks her when she doesn't press him.

"How you finding it being a guppy?" She points towards his back.

He's wearing a shirt now but getting the black marker ink out of his skin earlier was almost impossible. They were a funny sight, standing in the public toilets trying to scrub each others skin. Chelsea rubbed his back raw and the ink still didn't come out.

"It's okay." Bobby shrugs. "Has Stirling always been a dick?"

"Oh, for sure. He'll soften up by the end of the summer."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm, he's nice really."

Bobby just nods, trying to think of something to keep the conversation going.

“Did you hear about that guy that went missing?” Bobby asks.

“Huh?”

“The guy.” He points to the flyer sitting on Stirling’s desk. “I met his sister the other day.”

“Oh? Has anything happened with it?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs.

They’re silent for a little while as Poppy stares down at the flyer. She blinks a couple of times, trying to focus her eyes.

"What are you doing here so late?" He asks, turning her attention back to him.

"Isn't it obvious?" She gestures to her wet hair and then her board leaning on the window. "You should surf with us, after hours. Instead of y'know… snooping." 

She points out the window to where Henrik, Rocco and Marisol are walking down the beach with their boards.

"I can't surf." Bobby shrugs.

"Really?" She sits back on the desk and crosses her arms, doing wonders for her breasts as they're pushed up in her swimsuit.

"Yeah." Bobby murmurs, for the life of him trying to stay focused on her face.

"A lifeguard who can't surf." She jokingly tuts and shakes her head. "Despicable." 

"I’m not a lifeguard, yet." He smiles at her and she smiles back.

“Ah, you got me.” She sighs. “Should still learn though. It’s fun.”

“It looks fun. But, I think I’ll drown if I go out there by myself. And I will _definitely_ drown if I go out there with Noah and Chelsea.”

Poppy grins at him and shakes her head in amusement.

"I can teach you. If you want." She shrugs.

"For real?" Bobby's heart would've burst out of his chest if it weren't for his skin.

"Yeah, why not."

“Um.” His mind goes blank, completely at a loss for words from the very idea of alone time with this girl he likes so very much. _Say something you idiot._ “I, uh -”

“You don’t have to say yes.” She says seriously.

"No! No -" He stammers.

“No?”

“No! I mean yes. Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. I want to learn. How to surf, I mean.” He finally gets out.

“Cool,” She moves away and grabs her bag from the floor. “You wanna start tomorrow?”

“Yes.” He answers, a bit too quickly.

“Sweet. Meet me here at five.”

“Five?”

“Yeah. In the morning.” She grins. “If you can handle that.”

“I can handle anything.” He tries.

Her mouth quirks up at the side and she exhales. Bobby counts that as a laugh. She says goodbye as she walks outs, giving him a small wave over her shoulder after she grabs her board. He walks up to the doorway and watches her walk down the beach and disappear down the street. 

He gently touches the cigarette tucked behind his ear, his fingers grazing over where hers were moments ago. _For a special occasion._

He walks home, taking his time, fingers grazing gently along fences and brick walls as he passes them. When he finally gets home, he takes the cigarette and gently places it in the case for the Gameboy. He’s greeted by his sister, Emily, as he steps through the front door.

“Hey, bub.” She smiles and Bobby grins back.

“Hey!” He breathes out.

“You’re chipper.” She laughs. Her eyes drop down to his legs. “Good day?”

“Yeah. Real good.”

“You’re covered in sand again.” She moves closer to him, looking at the redness on his face. “And you’re burnt.” He pulls his shirt to her nose. “And you smell like the sea.”

“Beach.” He shrugs.

“By yourself?”

“Um.” He pauses, not entirely sure what to say. He doesn’t want to lie, especially to his only sibling. “No, no. I have friends.”

“You’ve made friends?” Emily’s eyebrows rocket up, a shocked grin on her face.

Bobby just rolls his eyes, dumping his bag by the door and walking further into the house. She follows him into the kitchen, probing him with questions as he starts to ransack the fridge for a snack.

“How’d you meet them?”

He takes some orange juice out, moving over to the cupboards to grab a glass.

“At the beach.”

“Well, duh. They locals?”

“No. English.”

“Oh! Tourists?”

“Yeah. Well, no. Kind of. They come here every year.”

“Summerbirds?” She tilts her head in question.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “That one.”

He starts pouring the juice into the glass, stopping when he hears his mum laughing and loudly talking from outside.

She walks into the kitchen from the patio door, followed by a happy looking Terry. Bobby scowls to himself as his mother laughs at something Terry says, earning him a discrete smack on the arm from his sister.

“Heyyy!” Their mum throws her arms up in the air, her face painted with a bright smile. Ah, she's been drinking.

“Alright, kids?” Terry beams at them as well.

“Hey.” Emily speaks before Bobby can say anything. “How was the boat party?”

“Oh, wonderful darling -“ Their mother moves towards them, giving them both a kiss on the head. “It was a beautiful day! I can see why you love the beach so much, Bobby.”

Bobby freezes, the glass in his hand lowering away from his face.

“You went to the beach?” He asks.

“Yeah, kind of.” Terry says. “We were on the docks for a while, waiting for the boat. Was stunning.”

“Yeah?” Emily says.

“Yeah.” Her mum nods. “We should go there at some point, together. We met a lovely couple actually, who Terry already knows. They live a few doors down from here.”

“Stephen and Colette.” Terry smiles, rubbing her arm.

“Yes! Stephen and Colette. They’re planning a big barbecue there at some point and inviting the whole street!”

“They do it every year,” Terry adds. “It’s a right laugh. We should definitely go.”

“Sounds good.” Emily nods.

They all expectantly turn to Bobby, who’s still nursing his glass in his hands.

“What?” Bobby frowns at them.

“What do you think?” His mum probes, wearing a hopeful face.

“Think about what?”

“The barbecue.” 

“Oh. I don’t know.” He shrugs.

“It’d be nice if we were all together, at some point this summer, Bobs.”

“Yeah… but -“

“But?” Terry interrupts. “C’mon Bobby, lighten up a little.”

Emily stares are him, nodding like Terry is right. But he knows she’s silently asking him to not start arguing with him right now. Bobby’s heart sinks a little, looking over to see how deflated his mum appears, after being so ecstatic after coming back from their nice day.

Okay. He supposes he could do this one thing for the family. Well, not the family. His mum.

“When is it?” Bobby asks, trying to sound intrigued.

“Next weekend.” Terry says. 

“Yeah. Okay.” Bobby forces a smile. “Sounds good.”

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh! this was a bit of a short one! but sometimes the beginnings of relationships are just small, fleeting moments. 
> 
> just want to say thank you thank you THANK YOU for all the wonderful and positive comments on the first chapter! oh my goodness, i wasn't expecting such a lovely response to this so thank you guys, it means sooo much!!!


	3. Stirlathon

_**_

_Okay_ , Bobby thinks. _This is probably the most terrifying thing to ever happen to me._

It’s night. He can’t move. He can’t see. Nor is he clothed, except for those stupid red trunks.

But he can hear the ocean, so that’s okay. And Chelsea’s yelling. And some giggling. He’s pretty sure he’s kneeling in sand. He can feel Noah’s panicked movement next to him. He can hear a crackling fire in front of him too but that doesn’t stop his shivers when the brisk night air whips past him. 

“Can we do it now?” Someone murmurs. Bobby doesn’t recognise that voice.

“Just a few more seconds.” Another whispers.

There’s a pause. Chelsea yells something else incoherent. She sounds really mad.

“I think they’ve had enough.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Bobby senses someone walking towards him, wincing when they rip whatever is blocking his vision away from his face. His heart is beating out of his chest when his eyes finally focus, looking up to see Lottie and a bunch of the other lifeguard trainees. 

What the fuck.

There’s a small bonfire lit in front of him, flames dancing wherever the wind takes them. He whips around to see Noah and Chelsea kneeling in the sand as well, both gasping when their blindfolds come off too.

“What the fuck!” Chelsea immediately yells. She starts pulling at the restraints around her wrists. “Are you guys insane!?”

“No talking!” Marisol yells and points a finger at Chelsea. Her stony expression is partly covered with aviators, just like Stirling wears. Chelsea’s mouth snaps shut.

Gary appears behind the fire, in front of them. He’s holding his arms up like some kind of messiah, face lit from beneath him. He’s _also_ wearing aviators and a red sweatband around his head. _This is ...really weird._

“ _Guppies_ .” He says sternly. Everyone’s conversations around them lull into a hush. “This evening you partake in the most _sacred_ of Junior Lifeguard rituals. Stirlathon. Like those before you, and the ones before them, tonight you flop into the sea of lifeguard-hood... freezing, blindfolded and absolutely shitfaced.”

Lottie gathers a couple of beers from one of the many coolers scattering the beach, passing them to the group around the fire. Bobby watches silently as a few of them walk toward him, Noah and Chels. 

Poppy takes a knee in front of Chelsea, Rocco in front of Noah and Ibrahim in front of himself. They’re all holding the beers and also wearing sunglasses. 

_What the hell is going on._

Next thing he knows Ibrahim is shouting encouraging, albeit scary, words at him as a beer is shoved in his hands and he’s forced to chug it.

“C’mon bro! Let go, _lets go_ ! You’ve got this, keep going! Yes, bro! _Yes Orion!_ ” Ibrahim yells in his face.

This was not how Bobby imagined his evening going.

His day started pretty normal. Up and at ‘em at 4:30am this morning for surf practice. He’s resorted to sneaking out his window now, too risky to go downstairs that early. He’s been having lessons with Poppy for about a week now and he’s loving every single second, even if he is exhausted by the end of the day. 

The sun just begins to break from the horizon as he approaches the beach every morning. Poppy’s always already out in the water when he arrives. He dumped his stuff by the lifeguard tower and runs to the water with the board she leaves out for him. He’s kinda got the hang of it now, the basics at least.

His first lesson she didn’t even let him go out into the sea. She laid a board out on the sand and told him to hop on, as if they were on the water.

“You’re goofy footed.” She had said.

“What?” He frowned.

“Your stance,” She gestures to him. “It’s the opposite to the regular position. Goofy.”

“Oh.” His shoulders deflated a little.

“It’s not a bad thing,” She shrugged. “Being goofy can be more fun.”

After surfing, he ran to the Slushie Spot to meet Noah and Chelsea just before training began. Chelsea never said anything to them until she had her first taste of ice cold, blue-raspberry slush. 

Then she was happy as larry, skipping and singing with them as Noah played something out of an old boombox they found lying around outside one afternoon.

It was like a morning routine for Bobby and he loved it.

Training definitely got easier as it went on, he actually felt kinda of good after it most days. There was just one minor detail that was really bothering him though. Poppy didn't speak to him during the day and considering they spend almost every morning together… it was kind of odd. 

She'd shoot him bright smiles and they'd exchanged a few polite words but it never extended into conversation like they did in the early mornings. 

However, he did weirdly find himself talking to Priya more often and she would even hang out with him, Chelsea and Noah during lunch sometimes. She’s even started to come to the Slushie Spot and walk home with them.

But, that evening she babbled her way through some excuse about having to go home. They didn’t think anything of it, Priya normally tripped over her words. It didn’t seem suspicious at all.

Not even an hour later, their abduction, if you can say that, happened. Just as he was saying his goodbyes he got scooped up, blindfolded and dumped on the freezing cold beach. And now he’s trying to chug a disgusting, freezing cold beer.

“I -” He tries to take the can away from his face but Ibrahim keeps pushing it back, making him splutter. “I’ve never drank before!” He gets out between the froth and liquid spilling down him.

“Well, you’re drinking now!” Ibrahim pushes the beer back to his face.

Poppy crows in delight, standing up and throwing the empty beer can in the air just as Chelsea completely finishes hers. She hauls Chelsea up and embraces her in a tight hug.

“ _Yes_ , Barbie! Show ‘em how it’s done.” Poppy shakes her shoulders.

Ibrahim claps Bobby on the back in celebration as he also finishes his drink. He uncaps Stirling’s sacred black marker and draws a vertical line on Bobby’s forehead, starting his tally. Poppy does the same for Chelsea. Noah starts coughing and gagging, not able to finish his drink. Rocco does not look pleased. 

"Damn it, Wheezy!” Rocco whines.

As Noah calms down, Gary points a finger at them all.

“Now… howl, motherfuckers.” He says.

“What?” Noah hiccups, the most miniscule amount of beer already affecting him.

“Howl!”

“If we’re guppies, shouldn’t we like… be making fish sounds or something?” Chelsea adds.

“ _Jesus_ H. Christ.” Gary massages his temples. “I said howl!”

 _Fuck it._ Bobby doesn’t even give it a second thought as he starts, not really knowing why but he does. Ibrahim joins, soon followed by Chelsea and Noah. The rest of the group does as well, looking crazy as they all yowl up at the sky with a fire between them all.

Let the Stirlathon begin!

Noah is passed out by 11pm. The following drinks after the first one were enough to knock him clean out, also never having drank in his life. A girl called Hope is sitting on the sand with him, cradling his head in her lap. There is a measly, smudged tally of 5 on his forehead.

They discovered he is a massive lightweight when they made them do the fireman's lift. The boy can put away food but certainly not drink. As soon as he got Lottie on his shoulder, his knees buckled and he fell face-first into the sand and sent Lottie flying. It wasn’t a pretty sight but it was damn hilarious.

Of course Chelsea handles it like a champ, grabbing Marisol and running down the beach with her like she’s completely sober. 

Bobby is feeling pretty good, maybe a bit too good, his decisions being made by the alcohol and not entirely with his brain. 

He grabs Poppy for the fireman’s lift, with no hesitation. She yells and laughs and kicks at him, but he just keeps running, laughing along as well. He’s too drunk to see Priya’s smile fall when it happens.

Gary’s shouting through a megaphone on top of the lifeguard tower, egging them on as they run. Chelsea wins, of course, cruising past the finish line like it’s nothing. Bobby manages to finish a few seconds later, completely winded and realising he’s way more drunk than he thought he was.

He straightens up as he lowers Poppy to the ground, trying to be gentle, well aware he's not sober at all. He holds her close, so she slides down against him, his hands skimming along her sides and back. She’s burning hot up against him, the drag of her skin against his feels like it goes on forever until her feet touch the sand gently.

Their eyes meet as soon as they're face to face, Poppy’s sunglasses had fallen off as soon as he grabbed her. The brown of her eyes burn into the hazel of his, neither of them able to look away.

They're both red in the face - Bobby from the alcohol and running. Poppy from, well, he can’t tell. Maybe she’s drunk as well. A shine sits on her pink lips, like a candy apple that Bobby so desperately wants to taste. He swears he can feel her heartbeat, but it’s probably his own.

"Bobby." She tries, and then coughs when her voice doesn't register. " _Bobby_."

He looks down to see he's still clinging onto her waist, fingers lighting digging into her exposed skin between her shirt and cutoffs.

“Oh!” He jolts away, taking a step back and stumbling a little. “Shit. Sorry, sorry.”

Bobby doesn’t remember much after that, the alcohol hitting him like a semi-truck at speed as they’re forced to drink more. He fades in and out of moments. 

He remembers winning the wheelbarrow race, Henrik pulling him up from the sand and into a bear hug when they won together. Then falling back down as drunk Bobby could not hold up his own or Henrik's weight.

He definitely remembers doing sit-ups, getting sprayed by freezing water from a hose everytime they stopped or their pace faltered the slightest. 

Chelsea hated it, jumping up and marching over to kick Gary straight in his shin, making everyone else laugh. He's not even holding the hose. After that, Gary has a sulk on for the rest of the evening.

For their last test, they must raid Stirling's office for a secret object. First one to find it wins. Only after downing some lethal shots of Raki, of course.

"Raki?" Chelsea asks as she brings the bottle to her nose, grimacing immediately as the fumes hit her.

The bottle slips out of her hands as Bobby grabs it, wanting to get a whiff too. It's disgusting, like if varnish remover was sealed and sold for consumption. He shrugs. Everyone watches as he gently tips the bottle up towards his mouth and takes a swig.

“Niiice, Orion.” Rocco nods and pats him on the shoulder.

The liquid barely makes its way down Bobby’s throat when he starts spluttering. It sprays out of his mouth, showering over some of them, followed by a colourful variety of swears he exclaims down at the sand. Poppy watches in amusement, chuckling quietly and smiling to herself.

"It's Greek." Gary nods.

"I didn't ask." Chelsea murmurs. 

The rest of the group laugh, making Gary twitch with anger.

"It’s fucking vile." Bobby scrunches his eyes closed, pushing the bottle back in Chelsea hands.

Priya walks up to Chelsea’s side and pinches her waist.

“Ow!” She yelps.

“Sooner you drink, sooner this is all be over.” Priya laughs and pinches her again.

“ _Hey!_ Cut it out!” Chelsea whines.

Lottie starts doing the same to Bobby, grinning when he starts flinching. Henrik holds him in place when he tries to get away.

“Ow! _Ow,_ Jesus.” He groans. “I’ve already had a drink!”

“But Chelsea hasn’t.” Marisol arches her fingers together and laughs menacingly.

They keep prodding and poking him, laughing as Bobby thrashes about. Priya prods at his waist as Lottie pinches his back and at one point his bum, making him squeal like a little pig.

“Chelsea!” Bobby begs, still trying to wiggle free from Henrik’s grip as he gets ambushed from all angles. “Take the bloody shot.”

Chelsea takes her sweet time, revelling and laughing at Bobby undergoing more tickle tourture for a few more minutes. When she finally takes a drink, the effects start to fully sink in for him.

He blinks a few times, trying to focus on what Gary is explaining to them. Nothing seems to be going in, his voice warping in and out of Bobby’s ears. So, he closes his eyes. Maybe if he really focuses then he can read Gary’s lips or something. 

When he opens them again, it’s blurry. The inky, navy night sky blends into the warm glow of the fire and bodies standing around him. He sees Chelsea start to run off, her steps uncoordinated and unsure, the alcohol from the night _finally_ hitting her.

There’s a rush of noise, everyone’s voices yelling and screaming, telling him to start but he can’t quite make them out. He doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to be doing. He stumbles a little bit, okay - he’s really, really drunk now.

He takes a step again, his legs unable to support his weight anymore. Someone rushes to his side, a faint smell of strawberry shampoo overwhelming him.

Then it’s black. A dark, cold and shitfaced abyss.

  
  


**

  
  


Tap.

Bobby shifts in his sleep.

Tap.

_Mmph._

Tap. Tap. Tap!

 _Ugh. Oh my… sweet lord._

Bobby is in agony. 

As his eyes start to crack open, an overpowering wave of nausea washes over him. The tapping noise continues, loud and thunderous in his skull. He slowly sits up in bed, his eyes finally blinking wide open, still crusted with sleep.

He doesn’t remember coming home. Fuck, he doesn’t remember a lot of stuff to be honest. 

He throws his covers off himself to see he’s still in his swim trunks, covered in a bunch of sand and what he thinks is paint. The tapping sound happens again, a lot louder, shaking his window slightly.

 _Christ_ , he thinks, _Why do people drink if it just hurts the next morning?_ His whole body aches, from his toes to the crown of his head, like his muscles are being pushed and pulled in every which way direction.

His legs give way slightly when he pushes himself up. The steps he takes are slow and calculated, for the life of him trying to keep his stomach down as he makes his way over to the window where the tapping has become a constant stream of annoying knocks.

Light floods the room as he pulls at his blinds, a little too hard and fast. He winces, the bright white filling his vision for a second until he sees Poppy perched on his roof and waving.

What the fuck.

He would normally be a bumbling, dopey-eyed mess seeing her face, especially showing up to his house but at this point he's just trying not to die from this hangover. 

He fumbles with the lock and pushes the window up to open it. The smell of greasy food, sun cream and the ocean wafts in almost immediately, making his stomach churn.

“What the fuck.” He croaks. “What are you doing here?!”

Poppy shoves at his torso and lets herself in, the bag on her back dragging on the windowsill as she steps into his room. He steps back as she climbs in, stumbling a little. He’s not entirely sure this is even real, he’s so out of it.

“How do you know where I live?”

“I just do.” 

“Did you climb up onto the roof?”

“Yes." Poppy shrugs like it’s nothing.

“How did I get home?” 

“I think Henrik got you home.”

Oh Christ. He really remembers nothing. What if his family heard? Shit, what if Terry saw?

“What are you doing here?” He repeats in a hushed tone, fully aware that his family are probably still in the house too.

“I have your bag. And your clothes. And some supplies for you.” She points to the rucksack on her back. “Plus, I’m bored.”

“My clothes?”

“Yeah.” She snickers when she gets a good look at him. “Damn, you look like shit.”

“Thanks. Always a charmer.” He rolls his eyes and staggers back to his bed.

“I try my best.” She shrugs and drops his bag. “Seriously, are you okay?”

“I’m dying.” He moans as he climbs back under the covers, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Such a baby.”

” _Dying._ ” He whines.

He listens to her prodding around his room for a little while, grunting in response when she picks something up and asks. Bored of it, Poppy chucks a bottle of water on his bed.

“Drink.” She says.

“Drinking is what got me in this state.” He groans, rolling away from her voice.

He listens to her stalk over to the bed and plop down next to him. She grabs the water bottle and pokes his back.

“Water is your friend right now.” She says seriously.

Bobby just groans and bats the bottle away, not rolling over to look at her.

“Bobby. Drink.” She says again.

“Make me.”

After about 10 seconds of content silence, where Bobby thinks he has finally won, she promptly opens the bottle and starts dumping it on his head. He shoots up, blinking and coughing as he wipes the water from his eyes to be greeted with Poppy’s cackle. The water trickles down him, soaking his sheets and mattress.

“C’mon. I know some places we can cure your hangover.” She says, jumping up from his bed and walks across the room.

"I’m soaked!"

“I know. C’mon you big baby, lets _go_! We haven’t got all day.”

“I’m really not in the mood.” He answers.

“And _I_ really don’t have all day.” She declares as she hops out the window.

He groans as he gets out of bed, shaking the water from his locs. 

He trudges to the window again, watching as Poppy gracefully hangs onto the guttering of the house and slide down. Her sneakers bang against the roof of a neighbours shed as she lands. 

Her hair whips in the wind, like a glossy chestnut wave, as she jumps down to the pavement. She spins around to face him as soon as she touches the ground.

“Still haven’t got all day!” She yells, hands cupped around her mouth.

Her smile is so big and bright, it kicks Bobby's brain into gear, as if to remind him why he's even questioning following her. She starts walking down the street, not looking back at him. Bobby’s never gotten dressed so quickly in his life.

Poppy drags him down to one of the main strips of town, a quaint but bustling part of Magaluf that is mostly reserved for the locals.

People are out on the street eating and drinking, some are selling their wares and produce as others mill about in the alleys just wanting to be in the Spanish sun. Bobby would really be appreciating this right now if it wasn’t for the beast of a hangover he had buried deep in his head.

She leads him into a bistro, tucked in one of the alleys. They go through a back door to the kitchen, straight into the heart of it. It’s tiny, but extremely busy. 

The line cooks are completely enraptured in what they’re doing, not needing to look where they go as they work. Poppy pulls on Bobby’s arm as she weaves them through the chaos.

The counters are lined with utensils and crockery, shelves above them stacked with fresh produce and ingredients. Poppy plucks a fresh cherry tomato from someone’s chopping board and gives Bobby a cheeky smile. 

The smells wafting in and out of Bobby’s nose were enough to make his mouth water. There's a mix of garlic and chillies and tomatoes and chorizo and _mmm_ \- everything good. 

One of the chefs light up as soon as they see Poppy, holding out his fist for a bump which she gladly gives him. 

As they make their way to the front of the kitchen, he spots Marisol taking rapidly in Spanish to one of the servers, hands wild and animated. She huffs to herself as the server walks away, a string of drawn out swear words falling out of her mouth quietly.

“Hey, Mars.” Poppy sing-songs as they walk over to her.

Marisol spins around, a grin spreading across her face as soon as she spots Poppy. They both throws their arms out and hug tightly, sway side to side for a moment. Bobby stands sheepishly to the side, holding his arm behind his back.

“Aw, Pops!” Marisol sighs. “So glad to see a nice face today.”

“Here.” Poppy holds out the tomato. “Your favourite.”

Marisol makes a small happy noise, taking it from her and popping it in her mouth. 

“They giving you hell?” Poppy asks.

“When are they not.” Mars rolls her eyes before noticing Bobby is standing next to them. “Hey! Orion!”

“Bobby.” Poppy corrects.

“Yes! Bobby, of course.” Marisol nods and smiles at him. “How’s your head?”

“It’s… still attached.” He murmurs.

Marisol lets out a loud laugh, throwing her head back. Poppy giggles as well, punching Bobby gently on the arm. 

“You were so fun last night, man.” Marisol grins at him.

“Really?” Bobby stiffens.

“Yeah, well, until you passed out. Good thing Priya caught you.” Mars says, patting his arm.

“Priya caught me?” He looks bemused.

“Yeah.” She grins. “But, you should hang with us more for sure.”

“Tryna teach him how to surf.” Poppy adds.

“Niiice.” Mars nods. “See you out on the water then.”

Bobby’s face melts into a smile. He feels warm and... well, happy. Poppy points towards a fridge towards the back of the kitchen.

“May we?”

“Of course.” Marisol smiles. “Just don’t tell my dad.”

“Wicked. You’re the best.” Poppy gives her a quick hug. “See ya later, Mars.”

“You too. Bye Bobby!”

Bobby gives her a small wave before getting pulled away again. He watches as she ransacks the fridge followed by a storage cupboard, taking snacks and drinks for the road and stuffing them in his bag.

“Here.” She passes one of the Coke cans to him. “Sugar will soak up all that alcohol.”

He gladly accepts, cracking it open as soon as he can control his fingers. As she slings the bag on her back again, Bobby's Gameboy clatters out of one of the side pockets.

"Woooah! What!?" Poppy dives down to grab it. "You have a Gameboy? I haven't seen one yet."

"Yeah," He shrugs. "I don't really play it." 

"Really?" She looks amazed, her eyes travelling all over the console. "How come?"

"My, uh -" _Should I say this?_ "My mum's boyfriend got it for me and I just…" He shrugs. "I dunno. I just don't."

"Mm, but you like games right?" Her face lights up.

"Mhm." 

"I have an idea." She starts walking off, grabbing his arm to follow.

They walk for a while, a little further out of town than he expected. They end up in an abandoned industrial estate. Boarded up buildings and old warehouse line the road with old, stacked up debri and furniture outside.

They approach the doors of what looks like an old arcade. A rusted, neon sign hangs slanted from above the door. Poppy pulls and shakes the door handles, to be met with resistance.

“It’s locked.” Bobby says blankly.

Poppy turns to him and smiles.

“When has that ever stopped you?”

He blinks a couple times as he watches her disappear around the side of the building, not realising he’s supposed to follow until a few seconds later. His trainers crunch on the gravel and old debris, coming to a stop where she’s looking up at a window.

“Look.” She points up to a slightly ajar, rectangular window sitting at the top of the wall. “Gimme a boost.”

“What?”

“A boost.” She chucks her rucksack on the floor. “I’ll get on your shoulders.”

“My shoulders?”

“Are you only capable of speaking in questions today?” She teases.

“No.” Bobby frowns. “C’mon then.”

He crouches down in front of the wall, as she clambers on top and situates her legs either side of his head from behind. He groans as he stands up, holding onto her thighs to balance himself. Fucking hell. Of all the ways Bobby’s imagined being in between her legs this was not one of them.

He watches as she shoves the plane of the window open and grabs onto the ledge before pulling herself up. There’s a small clang as she makes her way inside and then a loud thud.

“Are you okay!?” Bobby yells.

A pause.

“I’m fine!” She chirps back. 

He runs around the side of the building again, bag in his hand and jingling. The front door pings open as it unlocks. She stands aside and dramatically bows holding the door open.

"Welcome." She greets him.

"Thank you." He laughs and shuffles inside.

It looks like it’s been abandoned for awhile, the old machines caked in layers of dust and grime. Bobby jumps when he walks into a cobweb, flailing his arms and making Poppy laugh as she tries to brush it off him. 

They find a spot next to an old Galaga machine. Bobby lazily dusts a spot on the ground for them to sit down against it. Poppy digs into the bag, pulling out food and drink. Bobby sighs with relief as he bites into a whole baguette, his hungover famine finally feeling a little satisfied. 

They’re both quiet as they chow down, the eerie silence of the building exemplifying every single sound they make. Bobby tilts his head back against the arcade machine, closing his eyes slowly, his exhaustion catching up with him. He can hear Poppy quietly open a Coke can and take a swig.

Just as Bobby feels himself starts to lull to sleep, Poppy lets out a disgusting, ear-drum bursting belch. It’s so loud, it feels like the room shakes from the echoes. Some birds even fly off and away from the rafters above them.

Bobby’s eyes snap open, whipping around to see her looking back at him with shock plastered on her face. They’re both silent for a second, the dust in the air settling to the floor.

“I… did not think it would be that loud.” She mumbles.

Bobby stares at her in silence, until he starts roaring with laughter.

“Such a lady.” Bobby gets out through his giggles.

“And I burp like a lady, too.” She gives him a toothy grin.

“Wait -“ He wheezes and takes the can from her. “I wanna try.”

She laughs as well, staring as Bobby takes a few gulps as well. They both wait as Bobby sits up straighter and tries to will a burp up. The bubbles rush up, burning as the fly up his throat and out his mouth. 

His burp echoes through the building likes hers does, the vibrations bouncing through the specs of dust in the air. It’s deafening and hilarious, making them both burst into laughter again.

She takes the can from him again, chugging it quickly. She burps again, higher pitched this time and sounding kind of like a child. Bobby can’t stop laughing and tries the same. Poppy burps her name. Bobby tries to burp the alphabet but gets stuck on the letter Q.

When Bobby tries again, suddenly his efforts of willing his stomach to work backfires. A little more than a burp comes up.

Poppy cries with laughter as Bobby’s hand flies up to his face and watches as he runs off, trying to hold down his stomach.

She keeps laughing as he erupts, vomit falling onto the floor and his shoes. He makes a sad groaning noise when he stops.

“Are you okay?” She calls out, still laughing.

“No. I’m dying.” He says.

“ _Dying!_ ” She mimics his voice from earlier.

Bobby giggles again. He may look like a total idiot and have sick on his shoes, but - hey... at least she’s laughing.

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy xmas ✌🏽
> 
> what better way to celebrate the holidays than reading about dumb teens doing dumb things in the spanish sun?? this was a lot of fun to write but good lord I am also dying from writing all this slow burn stuff 🥺
> 
> hope you enjoyed!
> 
> and a big, BIG thank you to the wonderful Darthvada88!! your suggestions and feedback have been the icing on top for this chapter and it gave it that little push, so thank you 👌🏽


	4. Wipe Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 🚫 viewer discretion advised! (not for wees)

**

It’s late afternoon, the light spilling into the arcade windows turning into a hazy, deep orange.

“My mum used to take me to this arcade all the time when I was younger.” Poppy taps one of the machines’ screens with her fingers.

They’ve found themselves in a different corner of the building, next to a Pac-Man and Street Fighter machine.

“Oh, yeah?” He mumbles, looking at the machines lined on the wall. “Tetris is my mum’s favourite.”

“Classic.” She nods.

“Pretty sure she only took me to the arcade at home to beat me at it.”

Poppy smiles, letting out a little laugh as she examines the old Street Fighter machine. Bobby chews on his lip, trying to think of anything to say to her.

“So.” Bobby pauses to think. “You’ve been in Spain for a long time then?”

“Mhm, since I was 10. My mum owns one of the small resorts up the coast. So, she just decided to move us here. Make it easier to run the business. All that.” Poppy says.

“Must’ve been weird leaving England.”

“I guess.” She shrugs. “I don’t know what I’d do without the sunshine though.”

“You’d hate Scotland.”

“Think I’d freeze to death if I ever ended up there.” She starts laughing.

“It’s not the greatest. To grow up in, anyways.”

“No sunshine in Scotland?” She smiles, teeth blinding even in the late afternoon glow.

“Yeah.” His heart flutters looking at her face. “No sunshine in Scotland.”

“There must be nice things there though, right?” She asks, turning to look at him fully.

“Oh, yeah! It’s not all bad.” 

“What’s your favourite?” 

“The beaches.” He says, knowing it sounds kinda dumb, considering the beautiful beaches and landscapes Spain and basically every other hot country has to offer.

She tilts her head, looking a bit confused. 

“The beaches? Really?”

“Yeah. Well, not exactly the beaches themselves. Used to go to Ayr beach a lot as a kid, just south-west of Glasgow.” He starts grinning to himself, not realising. “If we were really lucky he’d drive us up to Aberdour and me and sister would _always_ get in trouble ‘cause we’d try to scale this castle that’s there and -“

Bobby realises he’s rambling and stops himself when he notices Poppy nodding along, smile on her lips.

“And?” She probes him to continue.

“And -“ He blinks. “It was… it was just a lot of fun.” He shrugs off the rest of the memory.

“Sounds nice.” She breathes out and pauses for a few seconds. “Who’s ‘he’?”

“Huh?”

“You said ‘he’ drove you up there.”

“Oh.” Bobby says. “My dad.”

“Sounds like a nice dude.” She grins again, pushing away from the machine she’s leaning on and walks off to look at something else.

“What’s your favourite thing here?” He follows her, watching his feet, trying to not trip on old cables and gaffa.

“Nothing really.” She shakes her head, eyebrows screwing together. “I get bored so fast. Can’t wait to leave.”

“To leave?”

“Yeah.” She stops and throws her arms up. “Travel. Explore. Just go places, y’know all the cliché stuff.”

“S’not cliché.” He frowns.

“It is. Girl stuck in a town with no way of leaving, yet her dream is to travel?” She laughs and places her hands on her hips. “It writes itself.”

“At least you’re aware.” He says. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, god hope so.” She starts walking again, towards the door this time. “Can’t stand another year here.”

 _Another year here._

For a moment Bobby forgets she actually lives here, not here for a vacation or getaway. She’s no summerbird, this is actually her home. He watches as she grabs his bag off the floor and keeps heading for the doors. She gives him a little nod, gesturing as she opens it, silently asking to go.

They walk back to town in relative silence, both of them a little exhausted from the heat and walking. Small talk is a lost cause, neither of them in the mood anymore. 

She hands his bag over as they reach her street.

“Surf tomorrow?” She asks.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I will be vomit free tomorrow.”

She laughs and shakes her head, her nose scrunching up like how Bobby adores.

“Sweet. See you then.” She says walking away before Bobby can even say a proper goodbye.

It’s almost dark by the time he gets home, the street lights flick on as he passes, forming a shadow that drags behind him. The wooden steps up to the house creak underneath his feet. He stops at the door, staring at the frosted glass masking the inside. He can see the yellow of the kitchen light on inside. Everyone’s probably home by now.

He isn’t even able to take one step into the house when Terry calls out his name.

“ _Bobby!_ ”

Ah. Well, that’s not good.

He dumps his rucksack by the door, the remaining snacks crunching as it drops to the floor. Bobby takes careful, quiet steps down the hall, to find the family sitting at the dining table.

“Hi.” He says, frowning. He looks over to where his mum is keeping her gaze down at the table surface. Even his sister doesn’t look at him. “What’s going on?”

“Are you serious? What’s going on?” Terry scoffs. “What’s going on with _you?_ ” He demands. “You missed the barbecue last night. You didn’t come home.”

Fuck. Fuckity fuck _fuck._ He forgot.

“Crap. I forgot.”

He genuinely feels guilty, the look on his mum’s face upset enough to make his heart start to sink down in his chest and into his stomach.

“You forgot?” Terry looks bewildered.

“Yes. I didn't _mean_ to, I’m sorry I just -”

“Your mother was worried sick.” 

“Where were you?” His mum finally speaks up.

“I… I got roped into something with my friends.”

“We asked you to come to this barbecue, Bobby.” Terry adds.

“I know that -“

"For the family -"

"I _know_ , just -"

“So, why didn’t you?”

“I -“ He groans, frustrated. “I genuinely did forget.”

“You knew this was important. To your mother especially.”

Great. The guilt trip. 

“Terry. It’s fine.” His mum tries.

“It’s _not_. He should know better.”

“I just lost track of time and - fuck, I don’t know -“ Bobby tries to keep his cool.

“Don’t swear.” Terry states and sits up straighter.

“What?”

“It’s not very becoming.” 

“I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what is becoming.”

“Excuse me?”

"You can't tell me what to do -"

"If you're under this damn roof, you'll do as I say." Terry's tone is not a happy one.

“You’re not -“

“ _Bobby_.” Emily cuts in.

“Bobby, c'mon, let's just talk -“ His mum tries as well.

“You’re not my dad!” He raises his voice over them. “You’re not _our_ dad.” He points between himself and his sister.

“Bobby, calm down.” His mum gets up from the table and walks over to him.

“You have no idea what a dad is.” He carries on.

“I won’t be spoken to like that.” Terry stands up.

"None of this even concerns you, Terry! You are _not_ family.” Bobby glares.

“Bobby -”

"Do _not_ talk to me like that!" Terry squares up, pointing a finger at him.

"Screw you, don't point at me." Bobby snaps.

"Bobby!" His mother yells, interrupting them both.

This room simmers down. Bobby's shoulders slump as she looks at the disbelief on his mum's face. 

“You’re grounded.” She says.

“ _Mum,_ you cannot be serious.” He widens his eyes. “You’re taking his side?!”

“Bobby. He’s right.” She sighs. “We don’t even know where you go in the day! Let alone who these friends of yours are.”

"I've told you where I go I -"

"Yes. _Yes,_ the beach I know." She huffs. "But what do you do?" She asks. "Who - what… what could you possibly be doing all day at a beach?"

"I -" He pauses to think. "I, um -"

"See you can't even tell me." His mum gives up.

“You can't ground me during summer break.” He throws his hands up in disbelief. 

“I have no choice when you’re acting like this.” She throws back and points a finger. “And you do not talk to Terry like that.”

“Great. _Great._ Take his side. Not like you ever did that for dad.”

The room snaps into a hush, tension skyrocketing and crashing into the ceiling. Terry and Emily’s eyes go wide, not sure what to do.

“Bobby, don’t start.” His mother says softly. “Do not bring your father into this.”

Bobby stands there, shaking furiously, his fists at his sides. It’s silent. Bobby stares as his mum blinks from the tears sitting against her eyelashes. He does the same. The dining chair scrapes against the linoleum as Emily gets up from the table, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the room and up the stairs. 

His cheeks burn hot, the tears feeling even hotter as they run down his face. He feels like a ragdoll, letting Emily drag him up the stairs, just barely using his legs as they climb the steps.

She lies him down in his room. He barely settles on the bed when his breath starts coming out in hiccups, his throat contracting as he tries to stop crying. Emily sits behind him, rubbing circles into his back. Her hand runs down slowly and up again between his shoulder blades, like she did when they were younger.

She stays with him for a while, not saying anything, just being there. Finally, he calms down enough to speak again.

“I miss dad.” He whispers, like he’s helpless. The tears continue to flow, dripping over his nose and onto the bed.

“I know you do.” She answers, her voice just barely registering in the room.

He scrunches his eyes closed, curling in on himself as Emily keeps stroking up and down his back,still trying to soothe him. It’s late by the time he stops crying. She stays there, listening intently until his breathing starts to level out and slumber takes over.

  
  


**

  
  


He groans as he wakes up, eyes blinking in the dim light of the room. 

He groans again as his eyes focus on the big red numbers on his clock. Christ, it’s too early. Sighing, he pushes his face deeper into his pillow, trying to steal as many more minutes of sleep he possibly can before his alarm goes off. 

It’s just gone 4:21am, the sun’s not up yet but the sky is starting to show signs of the brand new day. It’s burning hot in the room, not even the slightly open window is able to help with the early morning heat.

His eyes are still a little red and puffy, having barely let himself calm down before passing out last night. The argument is a mere memory to him now, swimming in between whatever bullshit he’s got to deal with today. _Grounded._ Unbelievable.

He rolls over, the familiar feeling of his sleep induced wood bobbing in his shorts as he settles down again. For God's sake, he can’t get a break. So, he scrunches his eyes closed and tries to ignore it. He thinks of non-sexy things. Like, the open sea. And his mum's cutlery. Or grass. 

But that doesn’t work of course, because when he thinks of the sea he can see Poppy emerging from the water, her cossie vacuum sealed to her body. One time Chelsea caught him staring as Poppy picked at the back of her swimsuit, a glorious bronzed ass cheek on show for a second. Chelsea punched him on the arm.

And of course, to make matters harder for him (literally), his mind flashes back to the time when she got out of the water on a particularly colder morning than normal. Her hard nipples were on show, poking out loud and proud. 

Bobby wasn’t able to talk to her for the rest of the day. Ugh. 

The longer he ignores it the harder he gets, his mind trying not to flick over to dirty thoughts. But there is no hope. Fool! There is no escaping a boner when you are 16 years old.

So, he slips a hand between his thighs, just to get a little bit of relief. He groans, the friction and pressure feeling delicious. This is fine. As long as he doesn't think about _her,_ then it's all cool. It’s not weird then. All totally cool. He shifts his hand again, the first time not being enough, making him bite his lip from the dull buzz it’s giving him.

It's still not enough so he stretches out on his back, squeezing himself through the thin layer of his boxers again. He shoves the covers off himself, staring down at the tent he’s making. The temptation is too much, mindless as his hand slips beneath his boxers. He can’t resist, thinking of glistening skin, round curves and wavy cocoa hair. Not her face though, he can’t think about that. His hips buck up, pushing himself up into his hand more feverishly. It’s slick and hot and it’s killing him. His breaths starts becoming more ragged, hot air leaving his lungs and joining the stuffy air of the room.

He gets lost in the ecstasy hitting him. It’s like he’s caught up in a dreamland, bumping between thick strong thighs and that sinful, red swimsuit she wears. 

It hits him quick and unexpected, as soon as the sound of her laugh makes its way into his mind.

“ _Fuck.”_ He grits his teeth. It’s like punch to the gut, but way fucking better. “Ah - shit.” He’s shuddering through it, body hot and lit-up.

He lays there panting for breath, hand still wrapped around himself covered with the unspeakable. It’s even made its way onto his stomach too. A breeze rushes through his cracked window, finally some cold air wafts into the room, feeling sensational over his sweat covered self.

His eyelids slowly drift down and back up, exhausted and spent, like his soul just shot out of him.

Bobby jumps out of his skin, his alarm clock blaring loud and wild as the time hits 4:30am. Without thinking he throws his hand over, hitting the button forcefully like he does every morning. As the beeping stop he blinks his eyes open, only to see his pitiful mistake.

His sticky fingers sit on top of the alarm button.

“Oh -“ He pulls his hand back quickly, his mistake flicking back at him. “Fuck! Fuck sake.”

Gross. Oh, so gross.

After a rigorous and brisk clean up, swearing under his breath the whole time he tries to wipe cum off his clock, he pops on his trunks and swiftly makes his way to the beach. 

Okay, yes, he’s grounded. But he figures he can still get away with sneaking to his surf lessons in the early morning. His family won’t be up ‘till later, so it gives him plenty of time to sneak back in.

The beach is always empty at this time in the morning, the sand a flawless and untouched white, just Poppy’s footprints leading up to the lifeguard tower and water.

Bobby makes his way over to the water, his foamie board under his arm and other hand blocking the sun from hitting his eyes. He spots Poppy a ways out. He watches as the water crashes into the reef, exploding into a foaming mess of white-water. It splashes past his ankles and in between his toes.

He watches as another roll of water starts to make it’s way over. Poppy turns her board, and strokes confidently into it. Her board lifts at the back, rising with the water as it starts to climb and climb and then curl in the air. 

Bobby can see the seaweed in the water stand up vertical in the wave, the light from the rising sun shining through and illuminating the glass-like, teal water.

The wave curls over completely, crashing into itself. His heart plummets as she disappears behind it, only to let out a sigh of relief when she comes charging out the barrel on the other side.

She stands up fully on the board as the water subsides, going flat and calm beneath her. Bobby can’t help but smile to himself, mirroring the one she’s got on her face as well. She spots him standing on the beach and waves wildly, beckoning him to get in.

They’re out in the water together for about an hour or so. Bobby wipes out a handful of times, not quite getting his balance right or just picking the wrong wave to ride. Poppy sits on her board, bobbing in the water with her hands cupped around her mouth and shouting encouragement.

He’s already sore and tired. But, he loves it. The fresh crisp air and bright sun hits him everywhere as he looks over the ocean. Much better than Scotland.

They find themselves without any rideable waves around 6am, the water going completely calm and still, only to be gently washing up and retreating on the shoreline.

“Ew!"

"It can go further back."

"Eugh. Oh my god, stop! I'm gonna puke."

"Look! Look!"

"Bobby!" Poppy yells and splashes water at him.

They're sitting on their boards together, waiting for the water to start breaking again. Bobby's bending his pinky finger all the way back to the top of his hand. His party trick, thanks to being double jointed.

"That is not human." She gets out, almost gagging on her words as she stares at Bobby's hand.

“Don’t you have any weird party tricks?” He asks, hands flopping back down his sides and gently hitting the water.

“Hmm.” She taps her chin. “Well, I can put my whole fist in my mouth.” 

Bobby’s face drops.

“Really?”

“No.” She laughs. “Just wanted to see your reaction. Very similar to Gary’s.”

“Fuck you.” He kicks water at her as his face goes pink.

“Hey!” She throws her arms up to protect her face, starting to laugh.

“You splashed me first!” Bobby keeps chucking water at her.

“And I _stopped!_ ” She yells, starting to splash him back.

They keep throwing water at each other, gasping and laughing, too distracted to notice the start of a wave roll in behind them. It grows bigger and faster than they both expect, pulling them up and making them both wipe out almost immediately.

Bobby surfaces first, spluttering and clawing at his board to stay afloat. He’s never seen the point in those little leashes attaching you to the board, but he’s thankful Poppy was so adamant on him wearing one she he first started.

Poppy comes up a second or so later, also clinging to her board. She blinks the water out of her eyes, shock all over her face. She really wasn’t expecting that. They lock eyes for a second, both looking a bit flustered. Poppy starts giggling and closes her eyes as it melts into a big, loud laugh. Bobby can’t help but join.

“Can I ask for a favour?” Bobby asks as they step out of the water together.

“Sure.” She muses.

“Are you able to cover for me?” He scratches the back of his head, feeling shy suddenly. “I can’t go to training today.”

She mockingly gasps and place a hand on her chest.

“Are you asking me to lie for you?” She grins.

“Kind of.” He feels giddy at the idea. “I have to go home.”

“Oh? What’s up?”

“I’m…” He trails off. God, this is so embarrassing. “I’m grounded.”

“You’re grounded?” The side of her mouth quirks up in a little smile.

“Yes.” 

“For what?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Nah, nah. I can’t lie for your without any context.” She raises her eyebrows.

“Okay. It’s just - it’s a long story. Well. Long-ish story.”

“I have time.” She crosses her arms.

“I missed a family thing because of Stirlathon. And being out all day yesterday. And then there was,” He shrugs. “Some yelling. Got into it with my mum’s boyfriend.”

“Mm. Yeah, been there.” She sighs. “No worries, dude. I’ll whip something up for ya.”

“For real?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs and gives him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

“Thanks.” He smiles, warmth spreading up to his cheeks.

“Probably shouldn't be sneaking out for surf practice if you’re grounded though?” She laughs.

They stop at the bottom of the lifeguard tower, resting their boards on the wooden railings. Poppy grabs her hair and wrings it out in her hands, salt water falling to the ground.

“I’m more scared of what you’ll do to me rather than what Stirling will do if I miss practice.” He teases.

She raises an eyebrow at him, trying not to smile too much.

“Oh, you have no idea.” She says quietly, playing along.

Her voice is so smooth and sultry, it goes straight to Bobby’s cock. Sweet Jesus. She reassures him again, telling him she’ll make something up to get Stirling off his back if he asks.

He nods wildly, trying his darndest to pay attention to the words coming out of her mouth, but getting distracted by the way her plush lips are bending around them.

Bobby walks home the quickest he ever has, chewing the inside of his cheek as his semi-awake dick brushes along the inside of his swim trunks. He’s probably going to jerk off again. The probability being very, very high.

  
  


**

  
  


It just goes 1:03pm when there’s a light knocking at Bobby’s bedroom door. He’s wrapped up in bed, trying to sleep the day away as he really has nothing to do unless he’s at training. 

“Mm?” He grunts, his face peaks out the covers, eyes squinting in the light of the room.

The door cracks open, his mum poking her head through.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Her voice is gentle, opposite tone to last night. “You have guests.”

Bobby’s eyes burst wide open, kinda panicked. He shoots up in bed.

“What? Who?”

She’s backed away from the door before she can even answer him. He stares as Chelsea bursts in, door flinging wildly and hitting his dresser behind it. Noah jumps as the door bangs and steps in afterwards, grinning and waving.

“Oops.” Chelsea holds the door in place. “Sorry!”

“What are you doing here?” Bobby asks.

Seriously, people need to _stop_ showing up to his house.

They’re both still in their lifeguard gear, one of Noah’s t-shirts hanging off of Chelsea to cover herself up. Without a second thought she jumps on top of Bobby on the bed, making it bounce. Noah shrugs and does the same, winding all of them and pining Bobby to the bed.

“Hello!” Chelsea grins down at him, blonde hair falling around her face.

“We are your guests.” Noah pipes up, his face appearing behind Chelsea’s head.

“You’re crushing me.” Bobby wheezes.

“Why aren’t you at training?” Noah ignores him.

“Why aren't _you_ at training?” Bobby shoots back.

“It’s lunch!”

“Oh. Well, I’m grounded.”

“Poppy said you had irritable bowels.” Chelsea adds.

Bobby’s eyes go wide, making Chelsea start laughing in his face.

“Kidding! Kidding.” She giggles. “She said you had some family stuff going on, so you couldn’t make it today.”

“Which got us thinking...“ Noah starts.

“Why don’t we know about this family stuff?” Chelsea continues.

“And Poppy does?” Noah finishes.

Bobby stares up at them, a timid look washing over his face.

“Well -“ He frowns. “I saw her this morning.”

“ _This_ morning?!” They shout at the same time.

“And yesterday.”

“ _Yesterday!?_ ”

“ _Yes._ ” He rolls his eyes. “We surf in the mornings. And I told her to make something up.”

“Dude.” Chelsea scrambles off of him, pushing Noah as well to sit on the bed. “You never told us this! Since when!”

“Since. Like, over a week ago? I dunno.”

“Fair.” Noah nods.

“We got you un-grounded, by the way.” Chelsea chirps.

“What?”

“We spoke to your mum. Said you hang out with us in the day.”

“Which isn’t technically lying.” Noah reassures.

“She doesn’t know about any lifeguard stuff. Or getting shitfaced on the beach. The usual. So, you’re all good now.” Chelsea shrugs.

“Why did you see Poppy yesterday? Were you not super hungover?” Noah butts in, excitedly. “I slept in ‘till about 4pm. And still felt a little drunk.”

“How?” Chelsea laughs.

“Because I am _human_ , unlike some.” He stares at her.

Bobby ignores them and sits up against his headboard to answer.

“She came here to drop my bag off. Then we went to town and she took me to the arcade.”

“Oh my god!” Chelsea squeals. “You went on a date?”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“There’s an arcade here?” Noah frowns.

“Yeah - well no. It’s shut down and abandoned.” Bobby says. “She broke in.”

“Romantic.” Chelsea nods.

“I threw up on myself.” He adds.

“Still romantic.” 

“It wasn’t a date.” He complains and folds his arms.

“Sounds like a date.”

“Oh, _Poppy_.” Noah twists around, his back to Bobby before wrapping his arms around his chest and running his hands up and down himself. Chelsea starts howling laughing as he makes kissing sounds. “Ooh, Poppy, _I love you_.” He mimics Bobby’s voice. “ _Mmm_ , watch me throw up on myself and then gawk at you more!”

Bobby launches a pillow at him, hitting Noah square on the head.

“Ow!” Noah whips around and tosses the pillow back.

“Did you do anything else?” Chelsea asks.

Bobby shakes his heads.

“Not even, like, a little kiss?” She frowns.

“It wasn’t a date!”

“A hug?” Noah offers.

 _“No.”_ Bobby says, starting to get annoyed. “Nothing happened. She just walked home. I barely said goodbye.”

“Hm.” Chelsea purses her lips to think. “That sucks.”

“Not even some _y’know_?” Noah asks.

Chelsea throws a pillow at him this time.

  
  


**

  
  


Lottie isn’t a scary individual, to say the least. She’s just, well - she’s… okay, she’s fucking terrifying. 

Not like Chelsea terrifying, where you will get shut down almost immediately, especially if you’re called Gary, but terrifying in the sense that she will rip your throat out. With her teeth.

She always has a clean, slick coat of black nail polish on, accompanied by her dip-dyed hair and skin littered with tattoos. So, when she approaches them at lunch a few days later, Noah cowers behind Chelsea, not enough for it to be totally noticeable. But, noticeable enough.

“Hey, guys.” Lottie’s voice snaps them all to attention.

No one speaks for about 3 seconds.

“Hey.” Bobby says.

“Hi.” Priya murmurs.

Noah just stares, wielding a banana in his fist.

“I’m having a party this weekend.” Lottie states and passes them a piece of paper with some details. “Come.”

She doesn’t say anything else. They all watch as she walks away.

“Aw. She’s nice.” Chelsea smiles.

Noah lets out a huge breath, dropping to the sand in exhaustion from tensing so much.

“Holy shit.” He breathes out. Then a smile lights up his face. “A party!”

“Lottie’s parties are good. Something always goes down.” Priya nods. “Plus, she gets all the alcohol.”

“Ugh.” Noah makes a retching noise. “Don’t know how well I’ll be able to handle it this time.”

“The trick is…” Chelsea leans in towards him. “To not be such a massive lightweight.”

“Fuck off, Chels.” He laughs and throws the banana at her.

“What was it? 5 beers before you were out for the count?”

“ _Shut up._ ”

“You could just, like, not drink?” Bobby offers.

“Where is the fun in that?” Noah scoffs. “I have to drink. Think about my reputation.”

Chelsea puts her lunchbox on the ground and starts beating her chest like a gorilla.

“Me man!” She makes her voice all deep and gravelly. “Must drink to impress girls!” She hits her chest again. “Ooh! Oh!”

Bobby and Priya giggle, watching Noah start to scowl at her.

“Har-Har.” Noah rolls his eyes.

“No one cares that you passed out early, Noah.” Priya laughs.

“But I do! I care!”

“Gonna have to get that tolerance up.” She shrugs.

“I propose a plan.” Bobby says. “Mission: No More Lightweight Noah.”

“Yes!” Noah points to him. “This, this is what I need.”

Bobby straightens up, bringing his hand up to his brow to salute him. Chelsea copies immediately. Priya keeps laughing, chowing down on her lunch.

“Do you accept your mission?” Chelsea adds. “And all the possible embarrassment, hangovers and consequences you may have to face?”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am!” Noah yells and salutes as well.

“Are you ready to face the music, soldier?” Bobby demands.

“Sir, yes sir!” He yells even louder this time.

“You guys are so weird.” Priya keeps laughing.

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeey! more adventures with the slushie squad! wonder what is going to happen at lottie's house party 🤭
> 
> thank you very much for reading!! stay tuned for more xo


	5. Stars In Her Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 🚫 viewer discretion advised! (not for wees)

**

Bobby's never been so flustered about picking an outfit before. 

He watches the clock tick over to 8:12pm. Crap. He's gotta leave in like the next half an hour for this damn party. What do people wear to parties? After a small panic, he finds himself sitting cross-legged on his bed as his sister rifles through his wardrobe.

“No. No. _No._ ” She files through his clothes. “Oh! Actually. No.”

Bobby just watches.

"Here." She throws a pair of blue denim jeans at him.

Bobby throws his hands out to catch them but they hit his face.

"And… this!" She throws a white tee to him as well.

She quickly leaves the room to come back with a denim jacket as well.

"My favourite jacket." She says passing it to him. "Lose it and you'll lose an ear."

Bobby nods.

"Are you still okay to cover for me?" He asks when she's adjusting the collar for him, a minute later.

“Do I really have a choice?” Emily chuckles.

“Not really, no.” He grins.

"I’m still okay to cover. What are sisters for, right? Or whatever the saying is." She smirks and gives his shoulder a pat. "You owe me though."

"Of course." He grins. Thank god for Emily.

"Try not to get into trouble tonight, yeah?"

"No promises." He smiles and she rolls her eyes smiling, waving him off.

Bobby gives her a little smile and salute as she leaves the room. He pushes his window open, sighing deeply when the warm night air hits his face. Before hopping down and disappearing into the night, he grabs his Gameboy case on the side table and flicking it open. It’s weird how something so small can make your heart swell. He tucks it behind his ear just like Poppy did the first time.

He meets the others on the street corner. Noah’s already there, sporting some shorts and a very brightly coloured gilet. Chelsea arrives last, in some cuffed dungarees, white trainers and her hair in pigtails. She’s even got a little mascara on, her eyelashes standing long and luscious, making her eyes pop. 

“Aw, Chels. You’re so cute.” Noah smiles as she approaches.

She doesn’t say anything, just reels her arm back and punches him on the arm, making him screech up into the air. Bobby laughs at the face he pulls.

“ _Jesus!_ I was trying to be nice.”

“Don’t call me cute, then.”

“You look very nice, Chelsea.” Bobby grins.

“Thanks, Bobs!” She grins at him and then looks him over. “Is that a joint?” She points at his ear.

“Uh -“ He freezes. “Yes.” He says, unsure. “It’s for… something special.”

“Nice.” She nods. “Oh - and you look nice too, by the way.”

“Aw. Cheers, Chels.”

“Are you serious?” Noah exclaims as he rubs his arm. “Are you being for real?”

They start walking down the street, Noah behind, complaining that his arm has gone dead and that he bruises like a peach.

Lottie’s house is very easy to spot. People are out on the lawn chatting and drinking, some even dancing to the loud music filtering out from inside. The bodies inside flick from red to green to blue from the party lights. Bobby’s never seen anything like it. 

They all stare for a moment, until Chelsea squares her shoulders and strides towards the house, weaving between the crowd of bodies and leading the way for the boys. Bobby doesn’t recognise anyone until they get inside.

It’s more chaotic inside the house, people perched up against the walls and along the stairs with their red solo cups, trying to talk over the music. Chelsea walks off almost immediately, in search for a drink. Noah scans the room with Bobby.

 _Sledgehammer_ by Peter Gabriel plays out the speakers scattered around the house, the beat hard hitting as people dance to it. They spot Marisol’s long blonde hair swaying as she dances, a grin plastered on her face as she twirls and grabs Ibrahim’s hand.

Bobby’s heart very nearly stops as he spots Poppy dancing further back in the crowd, sandwiched between Hope and Lottie. All he can see are flashes of wild hair and gyrating hips as they dance. Good lord. 

But of course he can’t take his eyes off of a particular someone, the roll and sway of her body mesmerising. Especially in those damn cut offs, riding up so high on her thighs and dangerously close to her crotch it’s sending Bobby’s imagination into meltdown. His eyes follow down the long line of her legs, stopping at her off-white sneakers still caked in the dust from the old arcade she broke into.

Poppy shrieks a cackle as Lottie accidentally bumps the cup in her hand, spilling beer down her front. Even through the loud music he can hear that beautiful laugh. 

Noah gives him a small pinch on the arm.

“Ow!” Bobby flinches and pokes him back. “What is it with you guys and pinching?”

“You should go dance with her.” Noah leans in close to his ear.

Bobby straight up starts laughing in his face.

“No way.” He shakes his head. “I’d rather throw up on my kicks again.”

“We can make that happen.” Noah shrugs and grins. “Drink?”

“Yeah.” Bobby nods rapidly, following Noah to the kitchen

They make their way through the house, trying their best not to bump and knock into the other party-goers. Gary’s big laugh greets their ears as they walk into the kitchen. 

His back is to them, but he’s chatting with Priya and a redhead girl. Bobby kinda recognises her, she’s definitely been at the lifeguard training, but can’t seem to put his finger on the name. Priya’s sat up on the kitchen counter, looking kind of bored, definitely the third wheel in between the other two. She lights up as she spots him and Noah, waving and gesturing for them to come over.

“Hey!” She says brightly as they walk over. “You came!”

“Yep.” Noah grins. “Gotta start Mission: No More Lightweight in style, right?”

“Of course, of course.” Priya starts laughing and nodding.

“Mission what now?” Gary cocks an eyebrow at them, looking confused.

“We’re trying to up Noah’s drinking game.” Bobby nods.

“Ah.” Gary’s eyes sparkle. “Here. I’ll get a new one.” He passes Noah his drink.

Without hesitation, Noah begins to chug it, beer froth spilling out the sides of his mouth the longer he drinks.

“Damn, dude.” Gary laughs, shocked. He takes the solo cup from him and keeps laughing. “Another?”

“Sure.” Noah nods and wheezes, wiping his mouth on his arm.

“Hannah,” Gary points to the red head and gestures to the keg on the other side of the room. “Drink?”

“Sure!” She grins and walks off with him and Noah, leaving Bobby and Priya alone.

“You can get a drink.” Priya says, laughing at Bobby watch them as they go. “I don’t mind.”

“Mm. I’m not so sure. You want anything?” Bobby asks.

“Oh, no no. I don’t drink.”

“You don’t drink?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re at a party?”

“You can have fun at a party without drinking.” She teases.

“Hmm.” He tilts his head at her. “And, what do you do for fun?”

“Lots of things. Mostly people watching.” She smirks.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” She scooches on the kitchen counter and pats it. “Sit.”

He jumps up and sits next to her, their legs bumping together. She points to some people in the corner of the room, specifically a tanned brunette in a strappy blue dress.

“See her?” She leans close to whisper into his ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Mhm.” 

“That’s Blake. And she’s been making eyes at -“ She points to the other end of the room. “Him. All night.”

“Who’s that?”

“Lucas.”

“Lucas?”

“Yeah, Lucas.” She laughs. “And Lucas has been staring at Hannah all night.”

Their eyes move over to where Gary, Hannah and Noah are standing near the keg, laughing over something loudly. Hannah bumps Gary with her hip and he gives her a big grin.

“Even though she… likes Gary?” Bobby tries.

“Exactly!” Priya says, looking over to him and nodding. 

“And Gary likes…?” 

“Gary likes a lot of people.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s all a big cluster fuck.”

Time flies by as they keep talking, Priya explaining the big spider-web of relationships and hook-ups accumulated over the years. Bobby doesn’t even realise there’s now a whole different set of people in the kitchen until he turns to makes sure Noah is still on his feet. He excuses himself, walking off to find where’s gone.

He’s making his way down a different hall of the house, peering into different rooms when someone grabs the collar of his shirt, making him choke as he’s pulled into another room.

“What the -“

“Bobby. Bro. Bobby. Look at this!” Noah yells drunkenly as he closes the door behind them.

He turns to see Gary, Ibrahim, Rocco and Henrik all snickering by a dresser. He looks around and - oh, they’re in Lottie’s room. That would explain the spiritual looking wall hanging on the opposite side of the room, accompanied with a dream catcher and what he thinks is a fake black crow on a shelf.

“Dude, look!” Gary exclaims and spins around, holding what he thinks is… oh, Jesus Christ.

“A dildo!” Henrik laughs. “Lottie has a fucking dildo.”

Gary shakes it, making the boys burst into laughter as is flops around in his fist.

"Think fast!" He yells and chucks it at Ibrahim.

It flies across the room like… well, what you would think a dildo looks like soaring through the air. Rahim catches it, bursting out laughing. He throws it another direction, straight to Bobby, who quickly ducks as it whizzes over his head and smacking Noah in the chest.

His hands scramble on himself, trying to catch it and not hit the floor. He grimaces as he finally grabs it, chucking it back at Gary. It flies straight past him, crashing into a vanity mirror on top of the dresser.

You would think they were 13 years old from how shocked and hysterical they are. It’s purple and veiny and _big,_ like it will probably be a challenge being Lottie’s boyfriend if they have to follow _that._

“Can they really be that big?” Noah blurts out.

“What, penises?” Gary frowns.

"No, dogs." Noah rolls his eyes.

"Dogs?"

“Yes, penises. Of course I’m talking about damn penises!”

“They can be that big.” Ibrahim nods.

Everyone gives him a look, silently trying to read his face. They all go back to looking at the dildo.

“You should probably put it back, dude.” Rocco giggles. “She’ll kill us. Shit, she’s gonna kill us knowing we’re all in here.”

“Yeah, you don’t know where it’s been.” Bobby frowns.

“Oh, I know _exactly_ where it’s been dude.” Gary snickers.

There’s a banging at the door, making them all startle. Noah gasps so loudly he has to grab his inhaler out of his pocket and take a hit to calm himself down.

_“Hey! Is Rocco in there!? I wanna smoke!”_

Poppy.

Bobby’s heart skips.

Rocco walks over to the door, keeping it slightly ajar as he talks to her, saying he’ll be out in a bit. When they boys finally shuffle out the room, after trying to hide the dildo back in Lottie’s underwear drawer as best they can, Poppy is leaning next to the door frame and waiting.

“Hey.” She grins at Bobby when he walks out.

“Oh, hey.” He tries to not look too pleased. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just gagging for a smoke.”

“You smoke?”

“Not always. Just when I feel like it.”

She clocks the cigarette tucked behind his ear.

“Ey!” She grins and gently pulls it away from him. “This is your special occasion?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I’ve never been to a party.”

“Never?” Her eyes go comically wide.

“Never.” He laughs.

“Damn, then it _is_ a special occasion.” She hums.

Bobby just nods, watching her fingers toy with it in her hands. She tucks it behind his ear again, that all too familiar feeling of her hands grazing his skin making Bobby try his absolute hardest not to sigh out loud.

“Come with me.” She says and grabs his hand.

She takes him into a room at the back of the house. His eyes stare at her fingers linking into his and stumbling behind her as he walks. He stops in the doorway to see Henrik and Rocco sitting on a sofa, looking totally wiped out.

“Eyyy! Orion!” Rocco hollers.

“Bobby.” Poppy corrects and pulls him into the room.

“How you doin’ Bobs?” Henrik takes a drag of the rolled up cig between his fingers. Much like the one behind his ear.

“Doin’ good.” He nods.

“Yeah?” Rocco says and holds out… what looks like a glass vase to Bobby. “You want a hit?”

“I don’t want to hit anyone.” Bobby frowns.

Rocco blinks up at him and starts chuckling. 

“No, dude. A _hit._ Like, you wanna smoke?”

“What? What is it?”

Rocco just keeps staring at him. Bewildered.

“Pot.”

“Huh?”

“Weed.” Poppy says.

“Bud. Mary-Jane. Grah-aassss.” Henrik sing-songs from his place on the sofa.

“Oh.” Bobby’s face flushes. “I’ve never smoked.”

“You’ve never smoked?” Poppy asks, looking amazed. “You’re so sheltered.”

“Mm, no. Never had a reason to. Or the means.”

"Dude." Rocco mumbles.

"Bro, how?" Henrik adds.

"Just haven't." Bobby shrugs.

"Bro." Henrik shakes his head sadly.

“Dude.” Rocco says at the same time, also looking upset for him.

Poppy sits on the floor, pulling on Bobby’s wrist for him to do the same. She takes the joint from behind his ear and wiggles it at him between her fingers.

“Maybe this isn’t the best stuff to start you off with. I feel like a bad influence.” She laughs.

“No, no. It’s fine.” He reassures, looking eager, wanting to do whatever she does. 

She doesn’t look so sure, pursing her lips as her brain works.

“I’ll shotgun you.”

Bobby blinks.

“What?”

“Shotgun, bro!” Henrik says from his place on the sofa, giving him a thumbs up before his arm falls back down with a thud.

"Just trust me." She laughs.

Poppy shuffles closer to him on the floor, her bare arms and legs brushing all up against his side. She’s so close he can see the curl of her eyelashes, dark just like the brown of her eyes. She’s got a couple of freckles sitting on her cheeks, like his, probably from the sun.

The amber spark illuminates her face for a second as she lights it up, eyebrows scrunched together as she inhales. Bobby watches, mesmerised until she lightly places her hand on his cheek. She gently rests her thumbs on his lip, pushing down until his jaw drops and his lips part.

He’s on fire, feeling her weight start to lean up against him and able to taste the beer she spilt on herself earlier for a split second. She gently presses her lips to his, parting them as well. The smoke travels from her mouth to his as she exhales, hitting him like a tide.

It's not a kiss though, he knows it isn't, but God help him, he wishes it was.

The slick cherry, chapstick on her lips sticks to his, almost like it’s inviting him in. He watches through lidded eyes as hers drop closed, knowing that if he does the same he won't be able to stop himself from completely closing the gap between them. He is aching.

His body freezes up as he inhales, caught between the soft touch of her lips barely touching his and her hand resting on his jaw. It hits the back of his throat, potent and thick and begins to coat his lungs. His heart drops a little as she pulls back, her hand dropping down into her lap.

She stares at him, mouth quirked up in a small smile, the last remnants of the toke filtering out her nose. He stares back, forgetting to exhale until he explodes into a coughing fit. Poppy just laughs, legs lifting off the floor as she falls back with hysteria. 

He keeps coughing. She keeps laughing. Coughing, more laughing. An even louder cough is met with an even louder laugh. 

He would be annoyed, y’know, hacking for his life and going red in the face in front of this girl that he likes. But her shrieks and cackles are like gold, pouring into his ears and weighing him down with pure happiness.

“Stop -“ Bobby coughs again, hitting his chest and looking down at her. “Stop laughing!” He manages to get out.

She’s lying back on the floor, one hand on her stomach and the other waving the joint haphazardly in the air as she tries to get some composure. 

“I -“ Her eyes are screwed shut, voice pitching higher and higher. Bobby starts to smile as tears form in the corner of her eyes from laughing so hard. “I can’t. I can’t.”

He starts laughing as well, smacking her on the leg. He keeps laughing, watching her calm down until she sighs up at the ceiling, blinking away the tears from the corners of her eyes. A light pink is dusting her cheeks and hair splayed out everywhere underneath her, like autumn leaves.

She looks over to him, stretching her arm out with the blunt still in between her fingers. He takes it, watching a smile spread across her face as he tries to smoke for himself this time.

“Remember to exhale.” She grins at him.

“Fuck off.” He laughs.

"Maybe Stirling should've called you Wheezy instead."

"Are you done?"

"Yeah."

They pass it back and forth, hitting them way harder than Poppy originally thought it was going to. She needs to ask Stirling who his dealer is. 

Bobby ends up lying next to her on the floor, giggling over whatever stupid nonsense leaves Rocco and Henrik’s mouths. At some point Henrik tries to explain how when he had his first edible a few years ago, he saw a bear on the beach. But it was actually just Stirling before he did his pre-summer season wax.

He doesn't know how long he's in the room for, time not feeling relevant enough compared to Poppy by his side. Rocco is soon passed out, followed by Henrik who rests his head on his shoulder. A lazy snore emits from one of them.

Bobby feels _incredible_. The rug on the floor against his fingers, the dim lights in the room, her voice dipping into his ears. It’s all incredible, the best he’s ever felt.

The party is still happening, the bass of the music vibrating through the house. Even through all the noise, Bobby swears he can hear everything, every voice, every laugh, every scream as it happens. It’s like everything is becoming clear for the first time, his brain processing everything as it enters.

Poppy twists her body towards him, leaning up on her arm to look down at his face. She hovers over him, wobbling slightly as the alcohol from earlier hits her as well. 

He reaches out to twist her hair in his fingers as it cascades down her shoulders and arms. It settles around his head like a little tent, excluding them from the outside world.

“Do you think there is actually Orion's belt somewhere in your freckles.” She says, gently tapping his cheek.

“Maybe.” He mumbles, crossing his eyes like he will somehow be able to look at his own face. “Bet there's a bunch of them in there.”

"Mm, they're like a bunch of tiny stars."

"Like a galaxy."

“Maybe our galaxy is like, some giant cosmic being’s freckles.”

“And we’re just living on someone’s face? Dude.”

“That’s insane.”

“Maybe people are living in my freckles.” 

“Dude.” Her eyes widen slightly, showing off the slight red glaze that covers them.

They break out in giggles again, Poppy falling back to the floor too wiped out to keep herself up anymore. As her back hits the floor her shirt rides up a little, revealing her little plump belly. Bobby’s gaze drops down, teenage eyes unable to control themselves whenever there is skin exposed. 

“Don’t stare at my tummy.” She starts laughing and stretches her hand out to push at his jaw, making him face away.

“I’m not!”

“I don’t like it.”

“Why?” He frowns, gently pushing at her hand away from his face.

She blinks at him for a second, pursing her lips as she thinks. Oh no. Maybe he shouldn’t have probed. Bobby doesn’t know what it is, but a look washes over her face that makes her look sheepish, almost.

“I dunno, it’s just - “ She drums her fingers on herself and laughs nervously. “I just don’t. It’s fat.”

“Well, I think it’s nice.” Bobby says sincerely. “That’s the only opinion you need.”

The smile she gives him is sincere, her whole face lighting up with pure undistilled joy. Bobby prays that he gets to do that again.

“I have a belly too!” He crows and lifts his t-shirt up without hesitation, making her laugh again. 

“Oh, you do not.” She smacks him gently.

“Can you do the thing?”

“The thing?”

“Yeah, the -“ He holds his hand up as he pauses.

He pushes his tummy out, making him look like he’s pregnant and then sucks it back in. He does it over and over again, his belly rolling like a little wave. Poppy cackles with laughter, making him crack up as well.

"Another party trick!" She points and laughs.

"Yeah!"

“You’re hilarious.” She grins and pokes him on the tummy.

“And you’re not fat.” He pokes hers. 

They keep laughing, the atmosphere around them light and tinted with a fuzzy, warm aura. It’s nice, just being able to talk and joke with Poppy like he’s wanted to for so long. He loves how her nose scrunches up as she giggles, the way her eyebrows knit together, her high pitched cackle. Just her. Everything.

Bobby’s been so wrapped in the moment he’s forgotten to take his hand off her, his palm lightly resting just below her belly button. As she calms down she realises as well, gently placing her hand over his and gives it a squeeze. Strong and reassuring.

She’s so warm, the delicate, soft skin under his fingers and her palm over his hand like burning coals. He freezes when she shifts slightly, pressing down on his hand and starts moving it across her skin. Poppy silently watches as she guides his hand, slowly lowering down and down, closer to the front button of her shorts.

There’s a lump in his throat, growing bigger every passing second his hand stays on her. She’s staring at him through lidded eyes, watching his expression journey as it happens. He flexes his fingers, trying to rack his brain and see if it’s actually real. If he’s dreaming or not. She sighs happily, like his hand on his skin is the epitome of relaxation.

God, what he would give to see her squirm from his fingers.

The sound of her voice alone makes him shiver. She’s like wave, crashing over him and dissolving him into nothing but a weird horny mess. Nothing makes him feel anything like the way she does and she doesn’t even know it.

She pushes their hands again, fingertips dipping beyond the line of her shorts. It’s like she’s daring him, continuously backing him up to the edge and seeing if he’ll take the leap. She’s even hotter underneath, like molten. His breath gets stuck in his throat as his fingertips graze over the lacey edge of her panties.

“Don’t be scared.” She murmurs, looking into his eyes, like she knows what’s racing through his head.

Just as Bobby is about to open his mouth, to say he’s not scared - not even the slightest - Noah bursts into the room.

“Hey!” He says, his breathing heavy. 

Bobby rips his hand away and Poppy pulls her shirt back down. Noah’s entrance even wakes Henrik up from his induced slumber, making him sit up quick as a rocket.

“Heeyyy.” Bobby drawls out trying to sound calm and blinking slowly at him.

“You okay?” Noah cocks his head and frowns. “Have you been crying? Your eyes are red.”

“They are?”

“Yeah.” Noah blinks a couple times, remembering why he’s here. “Anyway. I need you, they’re playing spin the bottle and we need more players.”

“Why?”

“ _Because_. Dude, because.”

“Because?”

“Kissing. Girls. Y’know, all that jazz.” Noah sighs, looking at him like Bobby is dumb.

“I’ll join!” Henrik shouts, throwing himself off the couch and out the door past Noah. Rocco doesn’t even budge, completely passed out still.

Bobby looks over to where Poppy is on the floor. She gives him a small smile, as if to say it’s okay. Bobby can’t help but move a loose strand of hair away from her face.

“ _Bobby_. C’mon.” Noah throws his hands up and walks out the room and back to the rest of the party.

Bobby is not coordinated enough for this, but he gets up anyway and follows him down the hall. His body aches for him to glance behind him, to see if Poppy is watching but he doesn’t. Maybe it's for the best Noah interrupted.

The music hits him full blast as he joins everyone one else. Gary cheers as he sees him, passing a drink into his hands. Bobby takes a sip, it’s gross, but he doesn’t care.

He finds Noah again, joining him and a couple others as they sit on the floor in a circle. Noah sits to his left and Chelsea to his right. She rests her head on his shoulder and gently pats his knee.

First up is Ibrahim. 

Everyone watches in silence as the glass bottle spins on the carpet, primed and ready to land on its first victim. It comes to a complete stop in front of Hannah. Being the gentleman he is, Ibrahim knees his way over and kisses her sweetly on the cheek, making her blush.

Hope spins next, only for it to land on Noah. She crawls her way over to him, kissing him quick on the lips.

Gary’s spin lands on Chelsea. Just as he’s about to get up she stops him.

“Don’t even think about it.” She glares over at him.

“But -“

Chelsea doesn’t even have to say anything else, her glare enough to make him sit back down, tail tucked between his legs.

Marisol kisses Henrik. Lottie kisses Bobby. Hannah kisses Marisol. Noah kisses Henrik. _And_ Chelsea kisses Henrik. Priya’s first spin lands on Henrik too.

“Wait, wait.” Gary throws a hand out, halting Priya from getting up. “This has got to be rigged.”

“You can kiss me too if you want, big guy.” Henrik muses and puckers his lips.

“In your dreams.”

“You guys would have very beautiful children.” Lottie thinks out loud.

“I think Priya should spin again.” Gary ignores her comment.

“Why?” Henrik cocks his head, long platinum hair falling past his shoulder like some Scandinavian prince. 

“To give everyone a shot.”

“Gary if you’re that desperate to kiss someone then just say so.” Ibrahim laughs and pats him on the shoulder.

Gary just rolls his eyes.

"It's not supposed to be fair." Hope frowns.

"Yeah, it's the bottles choice." Hannah says.

"Don't mess with the bottle, man."

“Guys, guys,” Priya motions with her hands. “It’s fine, I’ll spin again.”

When she does, it lands on Bobby. His heart flutters when she smiles over at him. The kiss is sweet and short. Bobby can smell the strawberry shampoo still lingering in her hair as she sits back down.

The game goes on for a while, the antics escalating quickly. 

Bobby and Priya can only kiss people for 10 seconds. Noah and Hope have to down a shot before they kiss someone. Henrik and Hannah can now only kiss body parts. 

Hannah plays it safe and kisses Bobby’s knee. Gary’s eyes just about pop out of his head as Henrik lifts Chelsea’s shirt and leaves a big wet kiss just under her bra.

Bobby’s next spin lands on Priya.

“Ohh!” Hope hollers and throws her hands up. “You guys both have the 10 second rule!”

“Gotta kiss for 20 seconds!” Lottie chimes in and clapping.

“What?” Bobby starts going bright red.

“Why?” Priya says at the same time.

“Them’s the rules.” Noah slurs, leaning back on his arms. He is surprisingly doing well tonight.

“Kiss!” Henrik claps his hands together. “Kiss, kiss, kiss!”

The room starts chanting, even the bystanders that aren’t playing join in. Bobby goes an even darker shade of crimson, all of his blood flow rushing to his face. Damn it.

She leans up on her knees as he makes his way over, giving him an encouraging smile that doesn’t reflect his confused one.

He’s hesitant at first, pressing his lips to hers so gently it doesn’t even feel like a kiss. The chanting in the background matches the dull thud of his heartbeat. _Kiss, kiss, kiss._ But as Priya opens her mouth, inviting him in, the chanting turns into a white noise.

She cradles his face, gently cupping his jaw and cheeks. He reacts instantly, hands flying to her waist and pulling her flush against him. She’s soft and warm, guiding his tongue with hers as if to say _this is how you kiss._ Bobby feels like he’s melting, in the best possible way. He’s never kissed before, not like this.

He's a little clumsy but that's okay. He's drunk and inexperienced and mindlessly horny from being this close to someone else. She's holding him close, being a guide, gently helping him back on the path they're walking together.

They don’t break away from each other the entire time, the kiss getting more passionate as the time ticks down. He swears she quietly moans into his mouth at one point, making his blood start to boil. 

"Three - two - _one!"_

“Time!” Ibrahim shouts.

Priya pulls away first, resting a hand on Bobby’s chest as she starts panting for air. There's a twinkle in her eye as she sits back down. Bobby can smell her shampoo for the rest of the night.

He's pretty much faded by 1am, his brain, alcohol and substances wrestling for the upper hand throughout his body. He knows he should go home but he doesn't care anymore, it's new and different and exciting. 

But there's a nag at the back of his head, a voice telling him to go seek out Poppy again. The image of his hand on her skin replaying over and over again in his head.

He decides to go search for her and as he makes his way through the living room he gets pulled aside by a very intoxicated Chelsea. Her drink spills a little in her hand as he accidentally bumps into her arm.

“Bobby.” She slurs, sadly. “My drink.”

“Sorry.” He blinks at her and takes it off her. “You’re really drunk.”

“Gary is such a dickhead.” She talks over him, her eyes focusing on the other side of the room where Gary is standing and chatting with Henrik and Rahim.

Bobby turns to see where she’s looking and nods.

“He is.” He states. “Are you good?”

“He’s such, like, a brute. Y’know?” She says, blinking up at him and then casting her eyes over to Gary again.

She catches his eyes this time, glaring and squinting at him. Gary looks very confused but stares back, unsure what’s happening. Chelsea, without realising sticks two fingers in her mouth, sucking off the beer that she spilled on herself moments ago and goes back to looking at Bobby. 

She doesn’t even see Gary’s eyes widen in confused awe and astoundment. 

“Let's get you home.” Bobby says seriously, placing her drink on the side and taking her arm.

“Noooo.” She slurs but doesn’t fight when he starts walking her through the house.

“Let me find Noah and we can take you home, okay?” He says gently, squeezing Chelsea’s hand as he sets her on the stairs near the front door. 

She gives him and nod, not resisting as he helps her sit down. He slides his jacket off, wrapping it around Chelsea’s shoulders. 

He stumbles back through the party, in search for where Noah has gone. Not in the kitchen, not in the living room, not in the bathroom. Great. He finds Gary and Ibrahim, who point him towards the back of the house, saying he went off with Hope a few minutes ago. 

He reaches the door of where Poppy took him earlier, remembering that he hasn't actually seen her since leaving her on the floor. He should probably say goodbye, considering their… _thing_ earlier. Well, if you can call it a thing. _I should at least say goodbye_ , he thinks. But he just wants to see her again.

As he slowly opens the door he blinks a few times, trying to focus his vision and see if Poppy's still on the floor.

She most certainly isn't. 

His heart drops at the sight. Poppy's on the sofa, straddling Rocco as they kiss messily, drunk and uncoordinated. She moans into his mouth as his hand drops from her waist to her bum, grabbing it and helping her grind her hips down even more.

He can't look away, eyes fixed on Rocco fingers digging into the swell of her ass, fingertips denting her flesh as she pushes his hand into her shorts. It’s… he doesn’t - oh, god. He can’t think. He feels fucking sick.

Confusion and anger rushes over him, like he’s been hit by a brick wall. He shouldn’t be mad but he is, how could he not be? He backs away from the door, flinching when he bumps into an adjacent wall.

He rushes outside, legs carrying him for as long as he needs until he stumbles out the back door and slumping up against the wall until he slides down to the floor. He buries his head in his hands, trying for the life of him trying to get the image of Rocco and Poppy out his mind.

But it stays there, looping and taunting him. Rocco's strong hands, adult, _man_ hands roaming over her body and his mouth glued to hers, swallowing her moans and whimpers. It's torture.

No one else is on the porch, just Bobby and his imagination, delving deep into scenarios he doesn't even want to picture Poppy doing with someone else. He’s jealous. But he can’t be, it’s not like she’s his girlfriend or anything.

But there’s a thing there. He knows there is, he’s not insane. He can feel it. She told him not to be scared, and he wasn’t. But now… now he’s fucking terrified. Maybe he’s wrong. He buries his face deeper in his hands, head hanging between his shoulders in a slump. 

Just as he’s about to push himself back up, remembering he needs to get back to Chelsea, the familiar sweet smell of strawberries wafts past him. He blinks his eyes open to see Priya taking a seat next to him, a frown playing on her lips as she gets a look at his face.

"You alright?" Her voice is quiet. 

"Yeah." He blurts, lying. "Actually, no. I don't know." He breathes out, hands falling to his lap.

“I saw you running. You looked really spooked. Figured something happened.”

“Something. Yeah.”

"Okay." She laughs nervously, kind of unsure but doesn’t press on any further.

He shoots a sorry smile at her, trying to play down his mood. He eyes the little pink clips holding the front strands of her hair away from and framing her face. They match the pink checks of her little pinafore dress.

"Sorry. My head is everywhere."

"It's okay." She shrugs. "It happens, I get it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiles at him, that little dimple he finds cute appearing in her cheek. "Oh! You have -"

She gently reaches out to him, her finger swiping close under his eye. Bobby's cheeks start to burn, something bubbling up inside him as she gets close. She sits back to show the eyelash gripping onto her fingertip.

"Eyelash." She says and holds it closer to him. "Should make a wish."

A wish. Okay. He stares at it for a while until he gently blows it away from her finger. They both watch as it flutters down in an arch and to the ground.

“What’d you wish for?” She asks quietly.

Bobby stares at where her dress is riding high up on her thighs.

 _Prospect,_ he thinks.

A chance. All he wants is an opportunity.

So, Bobby leans over, kissing her square on the mouth, gentle and sweet like he did earlier. He doesn’t exactly know why, but he does. She looks stunned as he pulls back, her jaw dropping slightly, tongue poking out to lick over her lips. 

Bobby does it again, cradling her face this time, capturing her mouth with his.

He’s not scared anymore.

She retaliates, kissing back, the slick slide of their lips making wet, loud sounds as the kiss starts to get more frenzied. She slides her hands up the back of his neck, fingertips grazing and itching the shaved parts of his hair.

Tingles pinball down his spine, he gasps and pulls away from her slightly. Before he can catch his breath Priya pulls him back in, parting her lips this time and inviting him in for more. She shifts closer to him, slowing climbing on top to the point where she's sitting partly in his lap, legs straddling one of his thighs.

He grunts in her mouth at the pressure, the growing ache in his jeans finally getting a bit of relief. She plays along, grabbing his hands and placing them on her ass as she slowly wines her hips down, her heat pressing down onto him.

His hands slide up, her dress bunching up around her hips and waist. This is crazy. He can hear the chanting from earlier, _kiss kiss kiss_ , as she sucks his lip into her mouth and gently bites down. _Woah._ She did not teach him that earlier.

It all becomes frantic hands and rhythmic movements then. She starts rolling her hips down harder, holding onto his neck as she rides his thigh. She whimpers, the feeling of her clit rubbing against her underwear and the rough denim sparking a flame in her core. All Bobby can do is hold her, gasping into her mouth as she keeps dragging herself against his rigid dick in his jeans.

" _Oh_." She whimpers, her eyes falling closed. “Shit, Bobby.”

Lust hits him at full force, from just the smallest whine leaving her throat. He moves down to messily kiss along her cheeks and jaw and down to her neck, nipping at her delicate skin and easing the pain with his tongue.

She squirms, shuddering up against him as his hands dig into her skin and pulls her down harder as he arches and rolls his hips up. He blinks and all he can see are flickering lights, pleasure starting to wash over and drown him. They keep grinding, the tension winding tighter and tighter in the most addicting and perfect way.

Bobby’s dick begs for release, watching and feeling Priya groan and press herself up closer to him. She keeps shoving her hips down, her hand shooting down to his crotch to add to the pressure. His belly tightens, toes curling in his trainers and suddenly shudders as it starts to hit him.

He buries his head into the crook of her neck, moans falling out of his mouth and muffling in her clothes. Finally, the tension snaps, like a rubber band stretched to its limits. Priya stills, her body shivering and chest heaving as she reaches her peak, falling over the edge as she comes against his leg.

His mind is blank, nothing comparing to how Priya is kissing and holding him. It makes his heart swell, finally feeling wanted and needed. But - crap. It happens again. The image of Poppy. The way Rocco held her and the noises she made. They way her hips rolled down onto his. Exactly what Priya is doing right now. 

But, all he can see is Poppy doing it instead.

“Oh - fuck.” His voice wobbles, high pitched.

He comes right there in his jeans with a loud groan, biting down on Priya’s shoulder to quiet himself. The squeak of his trainers rings in their ears as Bobby’s legs jerks out, his climax hitting him so forcefully he can’t quite control his body.

It’s quiet again, the music in the house thumping behind them. They’re both panting, a strand of Priya’s hair flying up into the air as Bobby’s breath hits it continuously. 

“Shit.” She whispers, talking into the skin of his neck.

“Yeah.” He breathes. “Shit.”

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weed, dildos and peter gabriel - what more could you want 🥴


	6. Gnashers

**

When Bobby was 8 years old he knocked his sister’s two front teeth out.

The day had started out pretty normal. Even better than normal, actually. It was beach day. Bobby’s favourite day. 

The house was relatively quiet. Smoke gently billowed out the chimney sat at the top of the house, dissolving into the cold Glaswegian morning. Last night’s rain clung onto the guttering of the house, turning into fat drops and falling to the ground.

The streets were quiet, the grey concrete of the pavement and roads slightly damp to match the bleak greyness of the sky. The sun only peaked out every hour or so, shining through the cracks of the thick clouds.

Bobby’s childhood home was in a rather bland, residential part of Glasgow, just south of Rutherglen. It wasn’t in the sticks but it wasn’t too far from the city either. Plus, only a stone throw away from the local Primary school, the only reason why his parents settled here in the first place. It wasn’t a particularly up and coming area, you were either born here or you drive through. 

Unfortunately for Bobby it was the prior.

Bobby and Emily were sat opposite at the kitchen table, eating and talking at 100mph trying to get breakfast over and done with as quickly as possible. Nothing compared to beach day. Their father, Graham, sat at the end of the table, the newspaper in his hands like a barrier from all their nonsense conversations. 

The clink of their spoons against their cereal bowls accompanied by their childish chewing and slurping got more annoying by the second. Emily’s legs swung enthusiastically under the table, banging against one of the wooden legs obnoxiously when she threw her legs out. Bang. Bang. Bang. It’s like all her pent up, excited energy was filtering down into her legs.

“Emily -”

Bang.

“Emily.”

Bang.

“ _Emily._ ” 

Just as her leg was about to kick out again, their dad gently grabbed her ankle under the table to stop her. Bobby tensed, watching his newspaper fall down to the table to reveal the disapproving look on his face.

“Emily. Stop.” Graham said.

“I’m excited!” She squeaked and tried to rip her leg away from his grip.

“Then stop banging the bleedin’ table.”

Emily kicked out her other leg, making a satisfying thunk noise under the table just like she did earlier. Bobby and Emily started cracking up with laughter, their high-pitched, delighted voices filling the room.

“ _Emily._ ”

“It wasn’t me!” She kept laughing. “It’s Bobby.”

Bang!

“Hey! It’s not me!” Bobby couldn’t stop giggling.

"Well, whoever it is needs to stop."

Bobby kicked his legs out, hitting the table as well. It shook the table for a second, sending milk from their bowls spilling over the sides. Emily doubled over with laughter.

“I’m serious.” Graham sat up. “I don’t want to punish either of you.”

Bang. For goodness sake.

“Am I going to have to bring out Gnashers?” Their dad raised an eyebrow at both of them.

Oh no. Gnashers.

“No!” Emily kept giggling, trying to kick her leg away from his grip.

“Are you sure?” He tried to hide his smile. “Because - oh no.” He scrunched his eyes closed. “I think… I think Gnashers wants to come out.”

“Nooo!” Bobby wailed, still laughing. “Not Gnashers!”

It was like a beast rising from the table. Their father rose slowly, puffing out his chest and widening his eyes to look delirious.

“No! Dad! Please, not Gnashers!” Emily’s spoon clattered to the table as she started to get up.

Their dad brought his hands up to his face, making bug-like pincers with his hands in front of his mouth. He let out a ferocious snarl before leaping up and gunning for Emily. She screams and starts sprinting around the table. Bobby jumps up immediately, starting to run as well, his yelling melting into laughter. But alas, Gnashers is too quick for him.

“I’m gonna get ya!” He yelled, turning his attention to Bobby when Emily managed to dodge his hands and dive under the table.

“Noo!” Bobby yelped as he got hoisted up. “Stop!” 

“Mmm - Gnashers’ hungry!” Graham bellowed, throwing Bobby over his shoulder.

Next thing he knows he’s hurled onto the sofa in the next room, getting raspberries blown on his stomach. Bobby crows with laughter, trying to shove at his dad as he got pinned down. He started crying, stomach hurting from giggling so hard as Graham poked at his sides with his finger-pincers.

“Mmm! Gnashers still hungry!”

“Dad! _Dad!_ ” Bobby screamed, wiggling and trying to get away.

“Get ‘im, Gnashers!” Emily yelled, appearing behind their dad suddenly.

Bobby’s pretty sure he’s about to pee himself, the tickly scrape of his father’s beard against his stomach too much, when his mother walks into the room.

“Woah - hey, woah.” Her voice was raised, slicing through the laughing and the screaming. “What’s going on?”

The energy deflated a little, like the life and soul of the room had suddenly been snatched up and thrown outside to join the rest of the dreariness.

“Gnashers.” Emily shrugged.

Graham pulled away, looking knackered suddenly. 

“Just -“ He huffed as he tried to catch his breath and stood up. “Kids are just playing, babe.”

“Okay, can you just -“ She gestured towards them. “Not get too wild. Like always.”

Graham didn’t respond.

They watch the bounce of her hair as she stalked out of the room again, the click-clack off her shoes deafening in the silence. Bobby didn’t really understand why it was silent, but he definitely felt uncomfortable.

“Right.” Graham blinked and rubbed his hands together. His tone is different, trying to sound happy. “You guys wanna get your stuff and we can get going?”

Bobby and Emily immediately jumped up, crashing through the house to get upstairs.

“No running!” The faint sound of their mothers yell echoed through the house.

They manically packed their belongings. Every toy and piece of clothing and nick-nack that they really didn’t need to bring with them. There’s no logic to it, they’re just too excited.

Bobby burst out of his room, rucksack practically bigger than him, hanging off his back. He’s about to clamber down the stairs until he spotted his parents talking quietly by the front door. He halted at the top step, creeping back to stand behind the banister and try to listen in. It felt wrong to do, but it also felt wrong to go downstairs in that moment. 

Graham’s expression was blank, but they spoke in hushed tones. It looked private. Very private. His shoulders slumped a little as he watched her walk away and back through the house. Bobby watched, eyeing the way his dad toyed with the keys to the car and staring into space.

This isn’t right. It’s beach day. No one can be sad on beach day.

“Daddy!” Bobby launched himself down the stairs, almost losing his footing from his rucksack weighing him down. “I’m ready.”

“Woah -“ Graham laughed, scooping Bobby up when he gets closer. “Easy champ, easy.”

“I’m just ready to go.” He grinned, poking him in the cheek.

“Yeah? Got everything?”

“Yup.”

“Shorts? Wetsuit?” Graham eyed him seriously. “Can’t have you getting cold like last time, laddie.”

“Yep. Yep!” Bobby reached around to pat his bag.

Emily came barrelling down the stairs with her own bag, hair flailing wildly as she stomped down the steps.

“Lets go, lets go, lets go!” She exclaimed.

The car journey never felt very long. Between fighting with Emily for the front seat, listening to their dad’s stories or singing madly along to Earth Wind and Fire, Bobby didn’t really realise how quick time would fly by. 

He always lost the battle for shotgun, being the younger sibling and all. He contently bopped along to _Let’s Groove_ in the back seat, looking up and out the window at the scenery passing them by. It was still kind of dreary out, the grey clouds starting to break apart the longer they drove.

Bobby’s eyes followed the rise and dip of the rolling hills, flickering between the trees and foliage, luscious green reflecting in his big hazel eyes. Raindrops streamed across the car windows, racing each other to the back of the car before whipping off and being taken by the wind. He followed one drop with his finger, dying to get into the water himself.

The sun was finally awake and alive as they reached the coast. Graham decided to take the scenic route, a small road along the cliff side before arriving at the small cove hiding the beach. Emily and Bobby shot up out of their seats at the sea came into view, white light spilling into the car as they left a tunnel of trees lining the sides of the road.

She’s bright. She’s blue. She’s _big_. Bobby felt himself break out into a giant grin watching the waves crash into the rocks near the shore. The sun is dancing on the ocean, specks of broken up rays sparkling on top of the water. Bobby was ready to burst out of his skin in excitement as they rolled in the car park.

It was a mad rush to get out the car, Graham barely had the key out of the ignition as Emily and Bobby scrambled to get their seat belts off. Bobby stumbled out the car, barely giving himself time to get his wetsuit on properly before dashing down the path to the sand.

“Bobby!” Graham yelled. “Slow down!”

That didn’t stop him. Even though the sun’s out, the air was crisp and chilly. It burnt his lungs as he panted, trying to run as fast as he could. His feet smacked against the wet sand the closer he got to the water, the only sound is his ears alongside the gentle hiss of the water washing up onto the shoreline.

He zipped past other beach-goers, looking insane as clumped sand flew up in the air from the forceful strides. A woman also got pulled over by her dog as he ran past them, startling them both. Graham watched from the car, barely out of the door. He couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face, watching Bobby’s figure charge for the water.

Bobby’s legs flailed as he ran full force into the ocean, the water hitting him like a barrier. He gets sucked in right away, like the ocean itself is breathing. The surface falls and rises rhythmically as he starts kicking out his legs with ease. The waves are like a pulse, echoing in Bobby’s ears as he dips under water.

The water was gentle as he moved through it. It was clean and soft, but cold and sharp. Like it was reminding him that water is powerful and behind her calmness was forces strong enough to destroy land if she wanted to. Sometimes, the most innocent faces are the most dangerous. But he loved it - loved this.

Nothing compared to the ocean, he never felt as good as he did when he’s in the open water. She’s like a siren and she called for him everyday. 

He wheezed as he pushed himself up to the surface again, sucking in air as quickly as he could. He spotted Graham running down the sand with Emily in hand, dumping their belongings on the sand before screaming with joy as they crash into the ocean too. He waded over to them, grinning like a maniac as Graham scooped him up into the air and back into the water.

Their laughter and woops and hollers bounced along the water, filtering out onto the sand across the beach.

“I challenge you to _Chicken!_ ” Emily screamed and pointed to their father. Bobby immediately perked up as she gestured for him to come over.

“You challenge me?” Graham’s jaw dropped, faking his shock. “You challenge _me?_ ” He blinked.

“I challenge thee.” Emily bowed, her hand brushing the surface of the water.

“Oh, it’s on, little lassie.”

Bobby waded over to them, able to feel the soft sand between his toes as he got closer to the shallow water. Graham helped lift Bobby out of the water and onto his sister’s shoulders, before stepping back and commencing his position. Emily secured her arms around his legs, hyping Bobby up as Graham started taunting them.

“Bawwwk.” He started making chicken sounds at both of them, tucking his hands into his armpits to resemble wings. “Bok - bok… bawk.”

Bobby waved a hand over his face, his smile disappearing and being replaced with a straight face. Chicken was a very, very serious game in this family.

“Your taunts are no match for us.” Emily spat, grinning up at him.

“Let’s go old man!” Bobby shouted, clapping his hands together.

Just as Graham was about to make his first move, he stood back with wide eyes and slumped shoulders.

“Old man?” He laughed. “Oh. You’re going _down_.”

His hands shot out, colliding with Bobby’s in the air. The water thrashed around them as they wrestled, Emily desperately trying to hold onto Bobby’s legs as tight as she could and brace her feet against the loose sand below.

Their dad wasn’t actually trying, of course, holding back just to see Bobby’s grin when he thinks he has the upper hand. Just as Bobby thinks Graham’s about to keel over, Emily’s foot slipped and sent them both crashing face first into the water.

The sounds of their dad’s laughter echoed loud in their ears, even beneath the water. 

“That all you got?” He shook his head as they both surfaced.

“We didn’t lose! I just fell over.” Emily giggled, combing her wet hair out of her eyes.

“Well, I’m not the one in the water -“ Graham gestured to himself. “So. I think you lost.”

The second match ended up with Bobby falling backwards off of his sister's shoulder. And again the third time. Fourth time Graham just pulls him off and chucks him in the water.

Bobby shook the water from his hair, blinky as it dropped into his eyes.

“Okay, I think we lost that time.” He said.

Emily and Graham cracked up with laughter.

After an hour or two in the water, Bobby trudges out onto the cold beach towards where Emily and Graham had set up their stuff, not wanting to be in the sea for any longer. He wiggled his fingers in the air, fingertips looking like soggy prunes. 

Graham held a towel out for him in both hands, enveloping him in his arms and wrapping him up as soon as Bobby ran towards him. As Graham toweled down his curly locs, Bobby pointed down to one of the sandcastles Emily made next to them.

“You made sandcastles without me.” He started frowning, blinking his big eyelashes at both of them.

“Well, you didn’t want to get out of the water.” Graham started laughing as he wiped down Bobby’s arms and down to his hands. “And now you look like a little alien.” He held up Bobby’s hand. “Aliens can’t make sandcastles.”

“You don't know that.” Bobby scrunched his face at him. “You can’t say that when you’ve never met one.”

“How’d you know I’ve never met one, eh?” He teased.

“Well, have you?”

“Not me personally, no.” Graham shook his head and turned to Emily to give her a quick poke on this nose. “But, I know someone who does.”

“No you don’t.” Emily smiled, folding her arms.

Graham mockingly did the same and frowned at her.

“Yes I do.” He said. “I have plenty of Alien-befriending mates.”

“You’re lying.” Bobby started giggling, collapsing on the sand with his towel to sit next to them.

“Why would I be lying?” Graham shook his head, giving them both a cheeky grin.

“Who knows the alien then?” Emily asked.

“Oh. I don’t think you’d wanna meet him.”

“What? Yes we do!”

“You sure?”

“Yes! Pleeease, dad.” Bobby pouted.

“Okay.” Graham sighed as he shook his head. “Not sure you’re going to like him though.”

The siblings watched as Graham quickly brought his hands up to his face - just like he did earlier - oh _no._ Oh no!

“Gnashers!” Emily screamed, trying to push herself up from the sand.

Before Bobby could react he got grabbed and thrown down to the sand next to his sister. Graham had them both pinned down, laughing as he tickled them both. 

“Gnashers will tell you about aliens in exchange for tickles!” Graham roared, hands poking at Bobby and Emily’s ribs.

Bobby couldn’t control himself, he was thrashing wildly trying to get away, not able to stand it any longer. He involuntary threw his elbow out as Graham got his hands by his waist and belly. Emily took the blow straight to her mouth, hard enough for her two front teeth to get knocked clean out.

Oh _shit._

It was an accident, of course. No scrawny 8 year old is strong enough to actually punch out someone’s teeth. It was bloody, it was loud, it was terrifying. Graham shot up, the sound of Bobby’s elbows colliding with Emily’s teeth enough to make him jump.

There was a moment of silence before the pain set in. Emily’s wail echoed into the air, loud and piercing. She held her face bawling her eyes out from the sharp pain and pure shock of it all.

Bobby watched with horror as some blood dripped from her mouth and onto her fingers. He looked over to see two of her teeth sitting in the wet sand. Oh my god. Of course Bobby panicked, his premature brain unable to think of anything else to do but totally freeze up.

“Jesus - are you okay, peanut?” Their dad dropped down beside them, eyes wide, unaware her teeth were gone. 

As Emily slowly took her hands away from her mouth, Graham’s face goes pale.

“Fuck. Fuck, _fuck._ Your mother is gonna kill me.”

“Dad, you’re swearing.” Bobby said.

“Of course I’m bloody swearing.” He answered, picking Emily up as he stood. “Your sister’s missing teeth!”

Oh, Gnashers…

  
  
  


**

  
  
  


“You!?”

“Yes -”

“ _And Priya_?”

“ _Yes_.”

Noah stares.

“You. And… Priya.” He says loudly.

“Yes.” Bobby frowns. “You need to keep your voice down.”

“Mate -” Noah shakes his head before shovelling some fries into his mouth. “I don’t think this is going to be a secret for very long.”

“Were you drunk?” Chelsea asks, taking a slurp of her slushie. 

“I kind of was. She was sober.” Bobby says.

“She was sober?” Noah blinks and points a fry at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. She doesn’t drink.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, dude.”

“But, she was at a party?”

“Yes -“

“That’s strange.“

“That’s what I thought at first but -“

“We’re getting off topic.” Chelsea interrupts. She turns her attention back to Bobby. “How did it happen?”

Bobby groans. Ugh. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up after all. He stares at both of them for a few seconds, pretending he’s racking his brain for the answer. Truth is he’s been thinking about it every day - every _second_ \- since it’s happened. And he hasn’t spoken to Priya since.

They’re outside the Slushie Spot after training, late afternoon. Bobby slumps against the window of the shop, his head bumping against the glass. It’s been a few days since the party, the events still haven’t completely sunk in yet.

He’s seen Priya since then. But they haven’t actually spoken, which is really odd, considering she’s so confident and at ease with most things. Lifeguard training has been beyond awkward. No sweet hellos or joking around like he normally does with Priya.

They’ll exchange glances, only to quickly look away again. Plus, Priya has been keeping her distance from the group. Chelsea knew something was up when she called Priya over to have lunch with them, only to be declined.

“We kissed. And then… we just, y’know.” Bobby stares at them. “It escalated.”

“You y’knowed!? You y’knowed and you’re only just telling us now?” Noah raises his voice, food in his hand jostling and fries going everywhere.

“It really isn’t a big deal.” Bobby shakes his head.

“It is a big deal! You basically had sex.”

“I came in my jeans.” Bobby’s face burns. “Don’t think that counts.”

“Basically had sex.” Noah repeats.

"But I thought we liked Poppy." Chelsea frowns, setting her drink on the pavement.

"I do like Poppy." Bobby replies a bit too quickly. "Like, really like her."

"But… now we like Priya?"

"I don't know. No. Yes -"

Bobby groans and buries his burning face into his hands. This is all so wrong and messed up. He actually does kinda like Priya, she's sweet and cute and kind. Everything about her exudes happiness. And she makes Bobby happy too.

“Is that why you took so long trying to find Noah? Before you guys took me home?” Chelsea pipes up, things starting to click in her head. She steals one of Noah’s fries when he’s not looking.

Bobby nods.

“You did it right before we took Chelsea home?” Noah stares at him with wide eyes.

“ _Yes._ It’s not a big deal.”

“But you guys aren’t even talking.” Chelsea points out. “I'd say it's not a big deal but it's a medium deal. You have to say something.”

“What would I even say?” He argues. “Hey, thanks for making me come in my underwear the other night?”

“That’s a start.” Chelsea smiles at him. “You should at least touch base.”

"Maybe you'll get to touch _her_ base, next time." Noah nudges him with his elbow with an exaggerated wink. "If ya get what I mean."

"Mate -"

"If ya _catch my drift_."

"Stop."

“You smellin’ what I’m sellin’?”

“ _Noah._ ”

“You might wanna say something soon.” Chelsea looks into the distance, nodding in front of them. “Like, now, soon.”

Bobby and Noah look up to see Priya walking on the other side of the street exiting the beach with Ibrahim and Lottie, chatting away and completely oblivious. Bobby sits up straight, eyes going wide. Shit. Now might be his only chance.

“ _Priya!_ ” He yells, like it’s a reflex. 

He’s up and away before he can even think, walking straight into the street without even looking. Priya stops in her tracks to see who called, Ibrahim and Lottie doing the same. Bobby watches as she starts to internally panic, the white of her eyes over taking her face.

“Hey.” He breathes, halting right in front of her.

“Hi.” She replies, not quite sure whether to smile or frown at him.

There’s a beat of awkward silence. Oh god. Oh _god_ , he really should’ve thought about what to say before stalking over. Christ, he’s had an orgasm with her, you’d think he’d be able to talk to her. Lottie gives a knowing smile and tugs on Ibrahim’s arm for them to keep walking.

“We’ll see you later, Priya.” Lottie calls behind her, voice happy. “Bye Bobby!”

“But -“ Priya goes to walks after them, pausing when Lottie gives her a stern look and points to Bobby.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Bobby twists around to see Chelsea and Noah have vanished from their spot by the shop. Fuck, damnit. He looks forwards again, meeting Priyas eyes.

“Can we -“ Bobby scratches at his head, suddenly feeling flustered. “Can we have a chat?”

“Uh. Yeah, sure.” She blinks at him.

They end up on the pier, walking in silence all the way to the end until Bobby decides to sit down on the edge under the railing, legs dangling off the edge and over the water. Priya follows suit, awkwardly sitting a few feet or so adjacent.

“So.” Bobby starts, looking out to the sea. It’s calm. Unlike how he is feeling. “How’s your day?”

“Did you really pull me away to ask about my day?” Priya chuckles, looking over at him.

“Yes.”

Priya raises her eyebrows.

“Okay, no. No, I didn’t.”

“I’ve been waiting for this conversation.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She laughs. “We didn’t exactly have an innocent night.”

Bobby blushes, his eyes flicking between hers, trying to read her face. She’s smiling at him, her own blush rising up on her face.

“I’m actually, uh - glad that you kissed me.” She looks down, twisting the ends of her hair in her fingers. She bites her lip as she looks up at him again, giggling at his shocked expression.

“You’re glad?” He asks, amazed.

“Yeah.” She nods. “I may have, like, a small crush. On you. I mean.”

“Oh.” He breathes out. “Wow.”

It feels like his body melts, her words like fire and turning him into a puddle of stuttering and wide eyes. Priya justs laughs as he tries to get his words out, bright and happy. 

He’s never imagined someone actually liking him. Especially as someone as good looking as Priya. Throughout school he was a bit of a wallflower, never actually exerting himself or trying to get attention from people. He was happy to just observe and admire from afar. Much like his situation with Poppy. And look where that got him.

“You have a crush on me?” He grins, placing his hands on his chest. “ _Me_?”

“Yes.” She starts laughing and playfully hits his arm.

“Seriously? Have you seen me? Have you seen _you_? I’m surprised you even let me kiss you. And then the other stuff.”

Priya just laughs, shaking her head at him.

“Normally the orgasms happen after you tell someone you like them, I know.” She jokes. “But, I liked it.”

“I liked it too.” He smiles.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. This has already solidified itself as the weirdest and best vacations I’ve ever been on.” He says.

“I wish I was just here for a vacation.” Priya frowns, swinging her legs out.

“You’re not here for summer break?” Bobby asks surprised, realising he’s never actually asked her.

He knows about, well, everyone else. Chelsea is here for vacation, as is Noah. Poppy and Marisol live here. Rocco ended up here after interrailing a year or so ago. Henrik backpacks and ends up in Spain most summers. Ibrahim and Gary are sponsored by the UK's National Beach Lifeguard regime every year. 

So, it’s pretty weird he doesn’t know why Priya is here.

“No.” She shakes her head. “It’s a long story.”

“I have time.” Bobby smiles.

“And it’s boring.” Priya laughs at him.

“Don’t care.” He shrugs.

Priya looks over to him, smiling like she can’t stop it. The golden hour sun lights up her face.

“Okay, well if you _must_ know,” She rolls her eyes and grins at him. “My family moved here last year because I was training for the next Olympics. In Barcelona”

“Seriously?” Bobby sits up. “That’s… amazing. For what?”

“Mhm.” She hums and nods. “Diving. Women’s 10 metre platform.”

“That’s insane.”

“It is.” She frowns. “But then I got injured a month after we moved and,” She holds her leg up for a second. “Now it’s all gone to pot.” She murmurs quietly.

That plucky, happy Priya persona melts away quickly. She casts her gaze down, looking into the water below their feet.

“I’m sorry.” He says, placing his hand on hers gently. 

He laces their fingers together, brushing his thumb along her knuckles. It throws her a little off guard, her head whipping around to look at their hands. But when she looks up at his face her smile is wide and open, making Bobby’s heart melt a little.

“It’s okay.” She says and squeezes his hand. “I just feel like I messed everything up. My whole family moved here.”

“It’s not your fault, though. It happens.”

“Yeah.” Her voice is quiet. “Just had to happen to me. My sisters are still training for it though. So, at least my parents didn’t move for nothing.”

“Your sisters are divers?”

“Mmm, yeah. All three of them.”

“You have _three_ sisters?” He laughs.

“Unfortunately.”

“Sounds like a nightmare. Luckily, I only have the one.”

“It’s beyond a nightmare.” She laughs. “It’s the damn twilight zone. Night terrors. The whole lot. I love it, though.”

“You close with them?”

“Oh, extremely. Even more so when we were diving together. But, now I can’t so it’s become a bit… weird. Distant.” She talks quietly. “I miss it, a lot.”

“How’d you injure yourself?”

“Oh.” She rolls her eyes. “So stupid. I was hungover during practice one day, so I wasn’t up to my A-game. Anyways, as I took my last stride to step off the board I felt this weird blow to my left foot.”

She points down to her achilles.

“Ruptured my tendon. I was unbalanced in my take off and -” She sighs. “Yeah. It was shit. I hit the water so badly, like, the worst I’ve ever done so in about 6 years. My coach and dad had to pull me out I was in so much pain.”

Bobby listens intently, nodding along as she keeps talking. He stares at her as she bursts out laughing and turns to him.

“Also -“ She points to her front teeth. “I hit my face on the edge of the pool when I tried to pull myself out, before I got help.” She keeps laughing. “Knocked my front tooth out.”

Bobby freezes and starts laughing out loud.

“You knocked your teeth out?” He stares at her.

“Yeah.” She frowns. “It’s fine now.”

“Is that why you had braces?” He asks.

“Partly. God, I was a mess last summer.”

“What happened after your injury? Or injuries.”

“Oh you know.” She tries to sound nonchalant. “Got examined. Lots of meetings, lots of doctors. Couldn’t train for months. Sat on the sidelines as I watched my sisters continue.”

Priya looks down, eyebrows furrowing together as she thinks back to that time.

“I felt… very lost. I watched everyone progress as I fell behind. It got to the point where I was so impatient during recovery. I worked myself too hard to get better and just didn’t give myself enough time to properly heal.”

“And when I got back to diving I couldn’t bring myself to jump off the board anymore. Like, I had a block or something. It’s just never been the same. I can barely dive like I used to. It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing.” Bobby frowns and shuffles closer to place his hand on her shoulder. “You can’t help an injury.”

“It _is_ embarrassing.” She turns to him, eyes a little glazed over. “I was the best in the UK.” She whispers. “The _best._ First in line for the Olympics best. At such a young age. And I pissed it away.”

"Priya -"

“Should’ve seen the look on my parents’ faces when the physio and doctors said I shouldn’t train anymore. Or even compete.” Her voice trembles slightly.

She scrubs a hand over her eyes, getting overwhelmed when tears start to fall. Bobby wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. They stay sat there for a little while, Priya slumped against him with her eyes closed. He traces a finger along her arm, drawing little circles.

“Well. You don’t have to be the best anymore.” He says. “Just yourself.”

She pulls away to look at him, sniffling and giving him a small smile.

“S’why I love the lifeguard programme so much.” She says. “Yeah, Stirling can be a dick. But he cares about the ocean and everything to do with it. There’s no competition between us to be the best.” She sits up straight to look at him in the eyes. “He just wants us to be the best version of ourselves we can. And I love that.”

“Sounds a lot better than diving.” Bobby sighs.

“So much better.” She breathes out, breath a little shaky.

“I’m sure you can still dive.” He teases and pokes her side. “Just a little bit.”

“I can cannonball.” She grins at him.

“Oh, I have a _mean_ cannonball. But, I prefer a wild flail on the take off and then a belly flop for the entry.”

It sends his stomach flipping, seeing her start laughing and look relaxed again. Her copper hair falls back past her shoulders as she throws her head back and giggles.

“Don’t worry, I can teach you.” She says as she calms down.

“Can’t wait.” He grins and gives her hand another squeeze.

“Sorry -“ She huffs out, shaking her head, wiping at her wet face. “Told you that was a long story. And boring.”

“Wasn’t boring.” He says, bringing a hand up to wipe at her remaining tears.

When he pulls his hand away, she’s smiling again and cheeks dusted with a rosey pink.

“That’s why I don’t drink anymore.” She adds. “It cost me a lot.”

“Understandable. People watching was way more fun.”

“I think you’re the first person to tell me that.” She laughs gently, resting her head on his shoulder again.

He shuffles closer to her again, pressing their sides up together as he rests his head on hers. The ocean breeze blows past them, making Priya tense as she shivers. 

“Thanks, Bobby.” She breathes out.

“Anytime.”

This feels different. It's nice. He's not nervous for once.

_Don't be scared._

When they finally decide to leave the beach, Bobby walks her home. They take their time, talking and laughing over how embarrisingly cringey it’s been to avoid each other the past few days. The street lamps flicker on as they pass them as the sun finally sets, nighttime taking its rightful place.

The gentle chirps of crickets begin to enter the air, drowning out any other background noise. It's kind of soothing to Bobby, much more relaxing than the squawk of seagulls they have to endure all day long.

Priya stops by the gate in front of her house, a small path leading up to it behind. Bobby sighs heavily, hands in his pockets, waiting for either of them to say goodbye. But he doesn’t want to. And from the look on her face, he thinks that she doesn’t want to either.

She doesn’t even hesitate as she catches his eye, standing up on her tip-toes and gently placing her hand on the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss. It’s just a quick peck. The kind of kiss you have when you’re young and haven’t even held hands with someone yet.

But he pulls her back in, lips brushing together like a tease. His heart flutters, skipping out of sync as they press up against each other and capture each other’s lips. Bobby’s hands rest on her waist, slowly dragging up to cradle her head. It’s slow and soft and comforting in a way that he’d never imagined kissing would be like.

It's nothing like the kisses they shared at the party, messy and inexperienced. Bobby is sober and finally seeing everything clearly for the first time. He feels confident, slipping into the familiar territory that is Priya.

It’s like the whole world fades away. There is no space left between them and he can feel her beating heart against his chest, skipping out of time just like his own.

She has a shy look on her face as they finally pull away from each other, Bobby can’t stop staring as she giggles and rests her head on his chest. She quickly kisses him again before saying goodbye and walking down the path to her house.

Bobby watches, his heart sinking as she gives him a little wave and disappears behind her front door. The swirls of emotions he’d been experiencing all day finally caught up with him. Embarrassment, desire, lust, confusion - everything.

It’s like their kiss had completely obliterated every thought Bobby’s had since he got here. For the first time in weeks his mind was completely blank and locked into the present.

He walks home with a small skip in his step. All worries and thoughts evaporated like a summer shower on hot tarmac. He didn’t think about anything. No worries about his mum. No hating on Terry. Nothing about his dad. He didn’t even think about Poppy. Nothing.

Just the sweet taste of Priya’s lips. A kiss like that felt like the beginning, a promise for something else to come.

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello!! sorry it's taken me so long to post chapter 6, just the january blues and all that y'know 🙄
> 
> hope you enjoyed!! 😌


	7. Orange or Lemon?

**

The sun is high in the sky as Bobby makes his way to the beach on an early Monday morning, awake and ready for surfing.

The streets are empty, except for himself and the seagulls, trying their best to decimate some trash bags out on the side on the road ready for their collection. Fortunately for him, the music in his headphones is just loud enough to drown out their loud squawking.

The heat in the air wraps him up as he steps in time to Shalamar’s _A Night to Remember_. His strides are slightly bouncy and rhythmic as he tries to fight the urge to dance down the street, but he is desperately failing. He just feels so good today, no worries in the world.

Bobby’s always known he’s a little guarded, physically. Sometimes shrinking and letting himself fade into the background. But when it is just him and music he feels so… vibrant. It blasts through his headphones, cracking slightly from being an old Walkman and cassette his dad gave him long ago.

It's too much. He’s overtaken by the beat and starts slowly swaying his shoulders in time with the music as he walks. His giddiness slowly builds, adjacent to his dance moves. The gravel scrapes on the soles of his sneakers as he shuffles his feet, heels and balls of his feet working in tandem. He’s no MJ, but the boy can dance when he wants to.

One step, two step, three step, four. It all melds into one as he throws his arms out, clicking and clapping his hands together in time with the beat. His dreads bounce as he bobs his head, wild and sporadic. He closes his eyes, knowing he’s alone and in his element, the trash bags and seagulls his audience. Ugh, is this what it feels like to finally be at ease? 

It’s moments like this he really misses sharing with his father.

He continues his solo dance-fest as he enters the beach, knowing no one is around still. The sand falters his steps a little bit, but he continues to wiggle his shoulders and sway as best he can. Just as he lifts his hand to cover his eyes from the blinding sun, he notices two boards sitting up against the railing of the lifeguard tower, instead of the usual one.

Huh. That’s weird. Normally Poppy is out in the water by now. He scans the beach, looking out onto the horizon to see if he can spot her figure. Nothing. His heart drops a little. Maybe she left.

He swiftly walks across the rest of the beach, imprinting footsteps into the sand next to Poppy’s from earlier this morning. His breathing is slightly ragged as he stops in front of the boards to take a closer look. Yeah, it’s definitely hers. The wood thunks loudly as he runs up the ramp to the door to Stirling’s office.

The door swings open with a bang, making the room shake. He watches someone fly up from their lying position on the floor. He recognises that yellow swimsuit anywhere. Oh, thank god.

“Poppy!” He exclaims, relieved she’s here.

She’s so startled the cigarette in her fingers flies up into the air and on the ground. Bobby stifles his laugh, watching as she panics and grabs a random flipper on the side to stomp it out.

“Yeah?” She’s looking at him with wide eyes, flipper in her grasp.

“What are you doing here?”

“What?” She blinks at him. “We meet here almost every morning.”

“No, no. I mean here. You’re normally out on the water by now.”

“Oh.” She speaks quietly. Her shoulders deflate a little. “I… can’t.”

“Huh?”

“I’m just -“ She sighs. “I tried this morning and…” She trails off, scrunching her mouth to the side, trying to think. “I’m not in the mood to surf this morning. Sorry.”

“And you stayed?” He smiles.

“Duh.” She laughs and turns to face him. “I’m not gonna just leave you hanging.”

Hah. Interesting choice of words.

Bobby walks over to where she’s situated and sits down next to her. Her hair is wet still, smelling like sea salt. She rummages in her bag on the floor, emerging with an almost empty pack of cigarettes. It’s almost painful to watch as she tries to light another one up, her hands shaking slightly. She looks relieved as she takes a long drag before exhaling through the nose and looking down at the floor.

She silently holds it out for him, a question in her eyes. Bobby stares before accepting it from her and taking a drag for himself. The side of her mouth tugs into the tinest smile when he exales without coughing. Nice. They pass it back and forth for a little while, content in the silence until Bobby notices her shoulders slump a little. 

“Are you okay?” Bobby asks.

“What?” Her head snaps back up.

“Are you alright?” He eyes her face, bags under her eyes on show. “You seem… stressed.”

“I’m not stressed.” She says blankly, staring at him.

Bobby doesn’t reply, not sure what to say, so he just gives her a little nod instead. They stay silent, listening to the sound of the surf outside.

“What’re you listening to?” Poppy pipes up, pointing to his headphones sitting around his neck.

“Oh.” He looks down confused, realising he’s still wearing them. “Nothing interesting.”

“Pfft.” She cracks a small smile and opens her hand out to him. “Gimme.”

Without a second thought he hands over the headphones and Walkman, carefully placing them in her hand. She keeps her cigarette between her lips as she inspects it, popping open the player to inspect the cassette inside.

“Shalamar.” She says, excitement lacing her voice. Bobby smiles to himself, watching her eyes light up as she looks at the tape closely. 

“You like them?” He prompts.

“Love ‘em.” She says, not looking away from the tape.

“Me too.” He keeps his gaze on where her fingers are delicately swiping over the tape, like she’s touching something precious. Like gold. “I think I’m in love with the lead singer.”

Poppy snickers and looks over at him.

“But, you don’t even know her.”

“What?”

“You can’t love someone you don’t know.” She shakes her head.

“Sure I can.” He shrugs.

“You love her _voice_.”

“And she’s pretty.”

“And that’s enough to fall in love?” She taunts. “You melt.”

“Oh, c’mon, it’s a saying. There must be singers or… just, celebrities that you’re in love with.”

Poppy just shakes her head, looking genuine.

“Not even, like, a little bit?” He frowns, voice going high pitched.

Another head shake.

“Not even a tiny bit?” 

Head shake.

“Teeny weeny? Teeny tiny?” Bobby’s voice reaches heights he didn’t know it was capable of.

“No!” She bursts into laughter, shoving at his arm.

“What do you love, then?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Don’t think I love anything.”

“I'm sure you can think of something. Everyone loves something.”

“Enlighten me.” She says quietly, looking down at the tape again.

“Okay...” He nods. “You know I love the beaches. I love music -“ He points to her hands.

She turns to face him, her smile so wide and sincere. It’s blinding. His heart squeezes in his chest, not from the beautiful girl next to him, but from the pure guilt of being close to her. It’s so confusing, caught between this weird web of feelings and emotions, made from Priya and Poppy. 

“What else?” She questions quietly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“I love confetti. Blades of grass.” He pauses as she looks at him. “Big eyes.” He breathes out, staring into hers. “Dogs. Ice cream.”

“All good things, then.”

“Sometimes people, if I’m in a good enough mood.”

“Ugh. Don’t love people.” She raises an eyebrow at him, ashing on the floor. “People are awful.”

“People aren’t awful. Not all the time.”

“People love... money. People love Vogue models. War. Corporations. That’s awful.”

“If I knew you were going to be so cynical today I would've stayed home.” 

Poppy stares at him in surprise, trying her darnedest not to laugh as much as she’s trying to. So, she ducks her gaze down to stare at her legs, with nothing else to say. They both stare where she drags her finger through the ash of her cigarette on the wooden floor.

“What else do you like?”

“Huh?” Her head snaps up.

“What else?” Bobby tilts his head at her, in question. “Music. I mean.”

“Oh.” She says, looking down at the tape still in her hands. "Similar stuff."

"What kind of similar stuff?" He teases, trying to coax an answer out of her.

"Just… stuff." She laughs, looking over at him. "So nosey."

"I'm interested!"

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“Music is interesting.”

And so is she. God, Bobby can’t help but shamelessly flirt.

"Well, I'm tired, so. You can be interested another time." She raises her eyebrows and gives him a small threatening smile, like a warning.

Okay. Time to shut up.

They fall into silence again, avoiding looking at each other. Bobby shuffles to sit back against the wall, letting his head rest against it. Poppy looks at his headphones in her hand before giving a small shrug, putting them on and slotting the tape back into the player. He glances over as the music starts to fill her ears, the faint sound floating out into the space.

His eyes fall closed, chest rising and falling in a soothing rhythm as he starts to relax. He feels like he’s drowning, in some weird bizarre way. His senses suffocated by everything that is Poppy. The heat from her leg next to him, the sea salt still lingering on her and the music she’s now grooving along to. His heart skips when he gets a whiff of the cherry chapstick she wears all the time, even through the smoke.

“Stirling was a huge dick to me, yesterday.” She suddenly comes out with, a little too loudly, like she doesn’t know she’s even talking.

Bobby sits up and away from the wall. “Huh?”

“Stirling pulled me aside after training.” She takes his headphones off.

“Oh -“

“Such a prick.” She interrupts. “Lectured me. Like I’m a fucking baby or something. Like school.”

“About what?”

“Slacking.”

Slacking? Christ if there is anyone in the programme that is able to hold her own, it is certainly Poppy. Not to mention she is a confident swimmer and surfer. There’s definitely more under the surface. But it’s not Bobby’s place to ask. He frowns as she sighs loudly to herself. Poppy looks like she’s itching to jump up or punch something. Just as he’s about to ask if she’s okay again, she leaps up.

“We should do something.” She exclaims, walking over to Stirling’s desk.

"We?"

"Yes, we."

The rickety chair squeaks as she slumps down onto it before she lifts her legs and rests her feet up on the desk. She takes one more drag from her cig, looking off into the distance out the window. Bobby watches as she flicks the excess ash to the floor, eyes landing on the long line of her toned legs stretched out in front of him and -

Shit, _shit_. No. No. No! He can’t think like this anymore. Not about her, it has to stop. He likes Priya now. And Priya likes him too.

“Like… what?” He asks quietly, forcing himself to look at her face.

“Something fun.”

“Right.”

“And dangerous!”

Bobby gulps.

“Something to really piss Stirling off.” Her eyes light up.

“What -” Bobby starts off but he stops when heavy steps start echoing outside of the lifeguard tower. Huh, that’s… weird. They get louder as they approach.

“Shit.” Poppy’s eyes widen immediately. She starts stubbing her cigarette out in the tray Stirling has on his desk, flailing her arms to get rid of the smoke. She grabs his hand, scrambling up from the chair and further back in the room, behind the many racks of surfboards and equipment. He follows, just making it out of sight in time when the door opens. 

They stand together, frozen, Poppy’s back up against the wall with Bobby almost pressed up against her. Definitely too close for comfort. He can feel her panicked breaths hit his cheek, desperately trying to focus on staying as still as possible. They listen intently as the person moves about the room, the familiar creek of the chair ringing loudly in the air as they sit down.

It’s uncomfortable. So uncomfortable. Good god, he really should’ve just gone home when he didn’t see her out on the water like normal. She’s still a little soaked from trying to get into the water this morning. Bobby watches a bead of water travel down her temple and along the line of her jaw before dropping off her chin. 

He scrunches his eyes closed, getting overwhelmed seeing Poppy’s chest heave with silent breaths in his peripheral. Even through the sea water he can still smell cherries. God damn it. He starts to count in his head, praying that time will somehow pass by quicker. But it doesn’t. He can’t keep his thoughts in check, confused and scared and much more. The numbers get jumbled in his brain, continuously losing count around 30 or so. So he starts again. And when that doesn’t work he starts again. And again.

It’s no use. Bobby slowly cracks an eye open, silently startled to see Poppy leaning in close to him, looking through the surfboards next to his shoulder.

“He’s just sitting there.” She whispers.

“Huh?”

“Stirling.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Dunno.” She mumbles, close enough to his face to make the hairs on his neck stand. “Probably something stupid and prick-ish.”

“He’s not that bad.” Bobby murmurs back.

Poppy stands back to give him a death glare, just for a second. The longest fucking second of his life, jesus. They both turn back to look between the surfboards, heads knocking together before they have to muffle their winces.

They stay there, listening intently to Stirling shuffle about and work away at his desk. Both their ears prick up as they hear the flick and sizzle of a lighter. The chair creaks again as Stirling leans back in his chair, taking what looks like a much needed drag from the joint between his fingers.

They both stare as he looks up at the ceiling and exhales out his nose. The silver cloud waltzes in the air, creeping up to the ceiling and disappearing as it hits the wood. Stirling makes a small happy sound to himself. Nothing like a good wake and bake to start the day.

He takes his time. Of course he does. He has no idea he isn’t alone. So they wait. And wait and wait until Stirling finally decides to leave. They give it about 10 seconds after the door closes to shuffle out behind all of the equipment. Bobby lets out a huge breath, shaking his arms.

Bobby walks over to the desk, eyeing up whatever Stirling was doing. Poppy follows suit, standing next to him. A list of names sits on top of the other papers on his desk. Bobby reads it carefully, it’s everyone from the lifeguard programme separated into two columns. Huh. This can’t be good. Poppy reads the list as well, looking as confused as Bobby feels.

She stands up straight when she’s done.

“I’ll see you at training.” She deadpans, before walking out the door.

Bobby barely gets out a goodbye as she strides out. Her footsteps are loud and focused as she walks down the ramp to the sand. Clearly on a mission.

**

  
  


Training is… more than what he had expected today.

Bobby pleads to the high heavens that today will be as normal and regimented as possible. A few buoy swims with some sand work afterwards, just to get the blood pumping and the senses sharp. Then team exercises after lunch. That’s all Bobby wants. Just a normal, regular day. But of course Stirling is going to spice things up when he really doesn’t need to.

Everyone’s standing out on the sand waiting, close to the tower, chatting and laughing about whatever. Bobby is standing with Priya, busting a gut laughing as Noah and Chelsea bicker over nothing in front of them. Priya laughs as well when Chelsea pinches Noah on the arm.

It escalates to the point where Noah is yelling mercy as Chelsea twists his arm back after he had bitten her shoulder. Just as Bobby wipes away the happy tears at the corners of his eyes, the door to Stirling’s office swings wide open, slamming on the outside of the building.

Everyone turns to see him standing up against the railing, hands on hips and face hidden by those familiar aviators. Ah, here we go.

“Alright, you little yobbos.” Stirling yells over the group to hush them into silence. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

He paces down the ramp, taking his sweet time. Everyone stays silent as he arrives on the sand. He scowls, looking disapproving, for a second, his thick porno-moustache twisting up and tickling underneath his nose.

“As a lifeguard, not only are you in competition with the elements… but you are in constant competition with your fellow peers.” Stirling holds and arm out and gestures around the group. “Even though you’re a team, there will be points where you are battling for the upper hand.”

Bobby watches as a few people exchange some concerned glances. Ibrahim turns to look at Gary confused, only to get a confused shrug back in return. His attention turns to where Poppy is standing next to Lottie at the edge of the group, arms crossed and looking unentertained. He lets out a little amused exhale when she sucks her teeth and tries her best not to roll her eyes when Stirling keeps talking.

Unknowing to him, Priya follows his gaze before her eyes dart back to pay attention to Stirling.

“You might not think there is competition, but there is. There always will be. Even when you share the same goal and duties.” Stirling starts pacing very slowly, holding his hands together behind his back. The whistle dangling from his next swings in the air when he turns. “So. Today I think it would be a little fun to feed that competition.”

Fuck. Bobby’s heart drops.

Stirling blows his whistle to snap them into attention and points to the shore where the water is lapping at the sand. Everyone moves automatically, setting off down the beach. Stirling saunters behind, the sun glistening off his sunglasses is just bright enough to disguise his smug look.

He stands in front of them, eyeing them up for a second before divvying out instructions.

“Henrik.” He says and points to the ground on his left. Henrik jogs over and waits, looking out over the ocean.

“Gary!” He points to his right. Gary does the same.

“Marisol.” He points to the left.

“Hope.” The right.

“Rocco.” Left.

“Noah.” Right.

“... Ibrahim!”

“Lucas.”

Everyone shuffles to their designated sides, forming lines either side of Stirling.

“Poppy!” Stirling grins and points to his right.

“Priya.” He says, hand gesturing to his left.

Bobby’s head snaps up, glancing over at Priya who is already looking at him and frowning. He watches as Priya walks over and joins her line. Soon after everyone’s designated their side. Bobby’s a little far back on the left hand side, waiting patiently behind Hannah and trying to ignore her hair whipping in the wind and hitting him in the face.

“I want you to relay race, swimming out to the buoy and back like normal.” 

A chorus of groans fill the air.

“But!” Stirling bellows to shut everyone up. “First team to finish gets the afternoon off.”

And, damn. That shuts everyone up pretty fucking quickly. Stirling really knows how to play this crowd. Hope raises her hand into the air almost instantly. Bobby can’t see it but he’s pretty sure Stirling’s eyes roll behind his glasses.

“Yes, Hope?” He sighs.

“Are you being serious?” Hope rushes out before Stirling has even finished talking.

“Deadly.” He says.

Without a word of warning he brings his whistle to his lips. The piercing sound shoots through all of them, striking a little bit of fear and excitement. Realising they’re first up, Henrik and Gary look at each other with wide eyes, before sprinting to the shore and diving into the water.

And… shit. They’re both really going for it. Where Gary has strength and brutal forcefulness, Henrik is nimble and a very skilled swimmer. Everyone breaks out in shouts, screaming encouragement to the boys in the water. Lottie has her hands cupped around her mouth, her voice louder than everyone else’s.

"C'MON HENRIK! YOU _BETTER_ NOT MESS THIS UP FOR ME!" She screams.

Henrik reaches the buoy first, expertly turning in the water after he touches it and swimming back to the shore. Marisol is already poised and ready, holding her hand out as Henrik scrambles out of the water and begins running back up the beach. Gary just makes it back out of the water as Marisol whizzes past him and into the sea.

Hope is jumping up and down, like a dog, screaming for Gary to get back. Gary just barely gives her the hand over before she takes off down the beach, long legs carrying her at speed. Unfortunately for Marisol she is slow enough in the water for Hope to catch up to her and they touch the buoy at the same time. The teams start to get boisterous, screams somehow getting even louder.

“ _Yes, Hope! C’mon chicka!_ ”

 _“Lets go Marisol LETS GO! We’re falling behind!_ ”

“ _Yes! Fuck yes Hope!_ ”

It kind of gets out of control after that. Noah accidently trips Rocco as they pelt down the beach at the same time, both teams neck and neck now. Stirling just watches on, with the biggest smile as they scramble to get up from the wet sand. Noah belly flops into the water, winding himself. Rocco looks pretty lethargic, not taking it as seriously as the others.

Bobby watches as Priya shuffles forward, peering over Ibrahim’s shoulder. He looks over to where Poppy is doing the same to Lucas, shouting and screaming for Noah to get his act together. _Shit_ , he thinks. Poppy and Priya are parallel. Pitted against each other. 

The battle of the buoy swims continues as Ibrahim and Lucas crash into the water next. Bobby can’t look, too caught up knowing Poppy and Priya are next and _against_ each other. He catches Priya looking over to where Poppy is watching Lucas intensely, a little scowl on her face.

Ibrahim returns from the water first, looking unfazed as he runs up the beach to tag Priya in just as Lucas starts to exit the sea himself. Sand is flying everywhere, catching the light of the sun, looking like golden molten as it soars in the air and falls back down. 

“C’mon, Lucas!” Poppy’s words are encouraging, laced with a little urgency as she watches Priya run for the water. The rest of her team join in as Lucas starts to sprint back to them.

As soon as their hands touch, Poppy is charging down to the water, catching up to Priya like it’s nothing. Fuck. Bobby sweats as he watches. 

But, suddenly… Poppy skids to a stop. 

Her toes just barely touch the water. Some of the group fall silent, watching her stand at the shoreline. Her hands clench at her sides as she stares down at the water, completely frozen. Stirling’s smug face turns to confusion, as does everyone elses.

“ _What are you doing!?_ ” Lucas yells, still panting out of breath.

“Poppy! Get in the _water!_ ” Another voice yells.

Shit. This was what she was talking about this morning. It has to be.

Everyone starts yelling, urging her to get in. They know she can beat Priya. She’s strong and older and experienced. It wouldn’t be a problem. But Poppy just stands there, eyes wide and panting for breath. Priya doesn’t even notice, swimming and clawing through the water like her life depends on it. The sun blasts down on them, making Poppy’s skin prickle the longer she stays still, feeling like she’s the only one it’s hitting. In the spotlight.

“ _Poppy!_ ” 

Priya wheezes as she gets back out, stopping and fixing eyes with Poppy who is still standing there. Priya’s eagerness melts away, confused as to what she’s doing and looking concerned. Bobby can’t believe it. It doesn't last though. A competition is a competition. Priya rushes back to her team, not looking back.

**

  
  


“What’re you guys gonna do with your free afternoon?” Chelsea asks.

“Not sure.” Bobby says as Priya answers with “Dunno.”

Bobby’s team won. Of course. 

Poppy’s little dilemma had set back the others by quite a stretch. She didn’t even get into the water. Just snapped into some kind of realisation and trudged past everyone before leaving the beach. Bobby was so close to following her but Chelsea grabbed his arm and shook her head. It wasn’t his place.

“Can’t believe you guys have the afternoon off.” Noah groans from his spot on the sand. He’s lying on his back, arm over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

“Well, we did earn it.” Priya teases.

“ _Ugh._ ” Noah whines up to the sky. “I’m starving.”

“You wanna do something?” Bobby looks over at Priya. She gives him a bright smile.

“Yeah.” She grins, jumping up and grabbing her bag.

“Bring me some food back from your crusade!” Noah yells as they walk away.

The sun is still high in the sky as they make their way into town, hands laced together. It feels weird. But nice. He’s not used to it. Priya mills about a produce market as Bobby pokes at some hand-crafted toys and trinkets on another table. Priya looks over at him, to find he’s holding up a wooden mask to his face and making weird noises to amuse her. She splutters out a laugh, slapping her hand over her mouth when it gets too loud. 

They walk through a main strip of the town, littered with locals out to eat and drink. Bobby is trying to decipher why it looks so familiar when he gets stopped by someone who’s smoking and leaning up against the wall of an alleyway.

“Ey! Yo!” The man hollers and accompanies with a whistle to get his attention. Bobby stops in his tracks, halting Priya as well.

“Hi?” Bobby says, a little panicked.

“You’re that kid! You, uh -” The guy throws his cigarette on the ground and stomps it out. Bobby clocks the chef whites and checkered trousers he’s wearing. _Oh_. “You came through the kitchen with Poppy the other week to see Mars.”

“Oh. Oh!” Bobby grins and nods. “Yeah, man. I hope that was okay.”

“Oh, for sure. For sure.” He grins and nods. “We love that girl.” 

Bobby just nods.

“Well, I gotta go. Only so many smoke breaks I can take, y’know?” He jokes, making Bobby smile. The guy keeps talking as he walks to the back door to the bistro’s kitchen. “Good to see you, man. You should come back. Marisol raves about you!”

“Thanks!” Bobby shouts. “You too!”

The guy is already through the door as Bobby finishes speaking. He can feel Priya’s eyes on him, but she doesn’t ask or query him. So he doesn’t say anything. He squeezes her hand reassuringly and she squeezes back.

They end up on the pier as the sun says goodbye for the day. Bobby teaches her how to skim rocks. Priya points out the different heights of the pier and compares them to diving boards. Bobby loves when she talks about diving. She always looks happy when she does. As the sky begins to melt into a rosey pink, they sit on the edge of the pier, legs dangling over the water.

"Have you ever had a blow job?" Priya asks out of the blue, completely irrelevant to their conversation.

Bobby blinks at her, his face starting to turn a shade of pink. Priya tilts her head at him, waiting for an answer. His eyes flick down to her bare shoulders, the strap of her tank top sitting snugly on top.

"Uh, no." He responds. His throat feels tight.

"Cool." She nods. "I've never given one."

“Me neither.” He quips to make her laugh.

They’re quiet again. But, Jesus Christ, Bobby’s mind is racing. He has to ask, he has to keep probing as to _why_ she even mentioned it.

"Do you…" He trails off, trying to think why she's asking this. "Do you know how?"

"Maybe. I don't know." She shrugs.

"Maybe? But, what about Pecker Wrecker?" He laughs.

"Oh, she _definitely_ didn't give one." She starts laughing as well.

"I hope not." He smiles.

They go quiet after the laughter dies down. 

"Do you…" She pauses, a flush gradually making its way up her face. "Do you wanna try?"

Next thing Bobby knows is that he's up against a cubicle door in the public toilets, trunks around his thighs as Priya kisses down his abdomen. And then her lips are on his dick, gently kissing as well. Holy shit, holy _shit_. Is this what sex is? Is he a man now? 

But when she takes him into her mouth it's not exactly the sky-rocketing, toe curling feeling he's always fantasised about. Yeah... it feels nice. It feels _good_. Of course it's going to feel awesome, having his dick in someone's mouth for the first time - but it's not amazing.

Priya stays there, not moving, just kind of… being. It's weird and awkward, neither of them really knowing what to do. It’s not like Bobby has sucked dick before. So, how do you tell someone, while your dick is in their mouth, that they're bad at something when you're also still a virgin?

They decide to stop, embarrassed and very confused. 

So, they go to Chelsea for help. Not directly. But she happens to be at the shop when they walk past.

She’s chilling at the Slushie Spot by herself, playing Bobby's Gameboy that he had no idea she'd even taken in the first place. Her bubble gum pops loudly as they approach her.

Chelsea stares at them for what feels like hours until she bursts into a laughing fit, tears flowing down her cheeks as she giggles so hard. They both watch mortified as she continues laughing and walks into the shop. They can still hear her laugh through the windows.

She returns with two ice lollies. Her sneakers skuff on the pavement as she sits down in front of them again.

"Pick one." Chelsea says seriously, holding them both out to Priya.

"What?" Priya's still embarrassed.

"Pick one!" She says excitedly.

Priya just stares.

"Orange," Chelsea waves the one in her left hand. "Or lemon." Then does the same with her right hand.

"Orange." Priya says, taking it from her.

Bobby watches, dumbstruck, as Chelsea demonstrates, yes demonstrates, on how to give a blowjob on a lemon ice lolly. She tells Priya to do the same, correcting her when things start to go wrong.

He shouldn't be turned on. But he is. Of course he is. He can feel his heart start to jump in his chest like a damn rabbit when the lolly melts, juice starting to spill out the sides of Priya mouth and trickling down her chin and onto the floor.

Her lips are red and wet from the cold but her eyes are focused, trying to take in everything that Chelsea is saying. There's a moment where Priya has to pull off, a small sigh escaping the back of her throat. Bobby's never wanted to be a frozen treat so bad in his fucking life.

It's possibly the weirdest, grossest and greatest thing he has ever had the pleasure of witnessing. Chelsea is carelessly gagging on her ice lolly, her saliva dripping and bubbling at the sides of her lips, oblivious to people walking past on the pavement. One woman covers her child's eyes as they shuffle past.

Just as Chelsea starts teaching Priya how to use her tongue, Gary walks by, his jaw dropping and looking just as dumbstruck as Bobby.

"Yeah - Yeah, like that!"

"This?"

"No, this -"

"Oh."

"Yeah, flick your tongue more."

They all jump as Gary accidently walks face first into the shop door.

Chelsea stops soon after, glaring at Gary as he walks into the shop and back out again. Gary can’t make eye contact, looking red as a beetroot. The popsicle sticks clink in the bin as Chelsea throws them away.

“Can I keep this?” Chelsea holds up Bobby’s Gameboy when she sits back down on the pavement.

“Maybe.” Bobby frowns. “We’ll see.”

“Sweet.” She chimes before switching it on and diving back into whatever she was playing before they got here.

Chelsea doesn’t say anything else, her attention on the game is too intense. Priya gently pats him on the leg and gestures to leave. So they do. Bobby walks Priya home in a little daze. She kisses him sweetly before going inside, sliding her hands around his waist and pulling him close. Bobby barely remembers the rest of his evening. All he can think about is blowjobs and ice lollies. 

They try again the next day. 

Bobby lasts all of 51 seconds. 

He comes so hard from Priyas mouth alone that he practically sees white. Like he's somehow ascended to the gates of heaven from an orgasm. And it's all thanks to Chelsea and those damn ice lollies. Chelsea can definitely keep his Gameboy.

“Was that okay?” She asks quietly, after wiping up his stomach.

They’re on the floor inside the lifeguard tower, late at night. The little light on Stirling’s desk fills the room with a fuzzy, warm orange. It’s as romantic as it’s going to get in a wooden shack. Neither of them wanted to go home, fearful of the idea of intruding parents and siblings. So they hung out at the Slushie Spot with the other’s until the sun started to set, the normal sign for them to go home. When Chelsea and Noah were finally out of view and down the street they booked it to the tower, ready to fool around.

“Was -“ He’s still panting. “Was… that -“ He sits up on his elbows. “ _Yes_ , it was okay! I just came from your mouth!”

“You did!” She confirms and laughs at how big his eyes are.

“Oh. Wow.”

“I’m gonna conclude that it was good then.”

“ _Wow._ ” Bobby blinks up at the ceiling.

Priya shuffles away from him, getting up to go through her bag on top of Stirling’s desk. Fuuuck, he feels amazing. His thighs are still tingling.

As Bobby pushes himself up on his hands, his fingers brush some dust on the floor. He looks over just as he’s about to wipe his hand on his shirt, but stops midway. He looks closer. It’s ash. He rubs his fingers together, the chalky feeling of it coating the tips of his fingers. His chest gets tight looking at the cigarette butts sitting on the floor next to it.

He picks one up to inspect it quickly. It’s a little greasy from lip gloss or chapstick or something. He can smell the cherry even through the tobacco and ashy aroma.

“What you looking at?” Priya’s voice is light, snapping his attention.

“Huh?” He looks up at her. She’s pulling her hair up into a ponytail. “Oh. Nothing.” He shakes his head and wipes the ash on his shorts. “Just put my hand in something.” He throws the butt on the floor.

“Smoking’s so bad for you.” She frowns. “Dunno why Stirling does it.”

“Yeah.” Bobby murmurs. “So bad for you.” He repeats.

“I tried it once. I think it was at one of Lottie’s parties.” She grimaces at the memory. “Disgusting.”

“Me too.” He adds.

“What’d you think?”

Bobby glances down to where the other cigarette butts are sitting.

“Yeah it’s...” He breathes out and nods. “It’s disgusting.”

They leave soon after, hand in hand. He’s in a little daze again. No longer thinking about blowjobs and ice lollies - but cigarettes and cherry chapstick.

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! thank you so much if you're still reading!! :-) so sorry i haven't been updating as rapidly as i normally do, i just want this story to as great as can be xo


	8. How Not To Watch A Porno: A Beginners Guide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 🚫 viewer discretion advised! (not for wees)

**

Romance is… strange. 

It’s all very strange. Weird. Just not normal, y’know? Bobby hasn’t done this stuff before, let alone with a gorgeous girl. A gorgeous, smart, caring girl. Who likes him. Who fucking likes him! Bobby doesn’t know what to do with himself half the time. He’s either sweating or incredibly nervous or ridiculously horny or something. 

He’s always _something_. And he doesn’t know how to explain it.

But, friendships… that was something he liked. Something he is actually kinda good at. Friendships were often the easiest path for Bobby to take, which he now realises why he’s never tried to escalate any relationships further than them.

But right now, having his lips sealed up against Priya’s as she straddles him on her bed, Bobby’s pretty sure he never wants to pursue friendships again if he keeps getting to do this. 

She’s been sneaking him in after training some days, conveniently the same time when her parents take her siblings for diving practice. It’s been happening for the last week or so and Bobby has never felt so bad and so good simultaneously. He's her dirty little secret.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to meet Priya's parents. And the same goes for her with his own, but it’s still early days. It would just be so awkward. What would he even say? They haven’t even labelled themselves as a couple yet, still in that limbo stage of figuring everything out. Bobby likes it though. It was exhilarating and new. And he gets to experience it with someone he really likes.

He especially likes kissing. More than like, actually. He _loves_ it. He loves kissing Priya, she’s so tentative and sweet, innocence somehow laced in each and every time their lips meet. But, everytime Priya starts to escalate things he starts freaking out just a little bit. 

Don’t get Bobby wrong - it's _great_ , so great. Mind blowing. It feels like a godsend when she touches him. But, when she starts to softly rake her fingers under his shirt or slide a hand between his thighs he tenses up, his body telling him there's something wrong. So, he normally just tells her he’s tired or something else along those lines and she goes along with it.

He has no problem with the idea of having sex. He very much wants to have sex. Like, insanely wants sex. What teenager doesn’t. But, his mind always wanders back to the party, when they ‘basically had sex’, as Noah would say. 

It’s a tainted moment. He’s finally had his first orgasm with someone and he was thinking about a completely different person. Not the bloody one grinding in his lap and getting him there. And since their little moment in the lifeguard tower he can’t stop thinking about the smell of smoke and cherry chapstick. Ugh. 

It’s all big clusterfuck of guilt and arousal, so confused what his relationship with Priya actually is. He doesn't want to like Poppy anymore.

He's trying not to think about it too much, especially in moments like this when Priya is sticking her tongue down his throat and sitting right on top of his rapidly growing dick. Her breathing is a little heavy, not giving herself a chance to get her breath as they keep kissing. Bobby wants more than anything to give her what she gives him, but the mental block is really not helping.

Not to mention that he actually doesn't know what he's doing. No experience. Nothing. Nadda. A big ol' virgin. So many cards are playing against him.

Fuck, he really needs to shake this off, like, right now.

So, he places his hands on her waist, fingers tentatively skimming against her warm skin under her shirt. Maybe if he takes it slow he can build his way up to it. She sighs into his mouth when he glides his hands up the line of her bra and back down again. The indents of where her ribs sit under her skin bump against his fingers, it feels so intimate to be touching someone like this. More intimate than grinding on each other that one time. He does it a few more times, feeling a little giddy when she shivers as his fingers glide back down to her hips.

Priya pushes herself up and away from him, hair flailing a little wildly. The afternoon sun backlights her figure, drawing golden lines all around her. She’s on show, just for Bobby. She carefully starts taking her shirt off, crossing her arms as she grabs the hem and pulling it upward towards her face. Bobby’s heart stops, eyes roaming all over her body as more and more skin gets exposed.

Good lord, this truly is the best fucking summer vacation he’s ever been on. She throws it to the corner of her room, careless. Bobby just about dies when she grabs his hand and places it on her left boob.

“Is this okay?” She asks, quietly.

Bobby looks at her face, down at his hand cupping her and back up. Yeah, it’s fucking okay.

“Yeah -” He rushes out, not sounding okay at all. He swallows and tries again. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s okay.”

Priya grabs his other hand and does the same for her right boob. Bobby breathes out heavily.

They’re both silent for a beat.

“Nice.” Bobby says sternly, staring at his hands.

Somehow, that was not the reaction Priya was hoping for. She frowns, looking down at him.

“Nice?” She repeats him.

Bobby panics.

“Yeah. Nice.” He says again. _Idiot_ , he thinks.

Priya looks so… baffled. Like, she really doesn’t know what her next move should be. What do you do when someone cops a feel of your tits and just says ‘nice’, like they’re flicking through the fucking morning paper or something. Good thing Bobby is cute.

So they keep staring at each other, both of them silently praying that the other is going to do something very soon or they’re going to be stuck like this forever. Priya bites her lip, looking like she is rapidly searching her brain for something else to say. But she doesn’t, just pushes his hands out the way and kisses him again.

 _Thank god._ Bobby likes kissing. And he thinks he kinda has the hang of it by now. But her lips aren’t on his for very long, moving away and skimming them over his cheek and down to his jaw and neck. Oh. _Oh_. Okay, this feels good. Really good. Priya sucks his skin into her mouth, lightly letting her teeth sink in before brushing over it with her tongue. Okay, this is really good.

She keeps doing it, alternating between sucking and biting at his skin. And when she adds the combination of shoving her hips down against his everything swiftly delves into the sphere of absolutely amazing. He can feel how hot she is between all the layers between them. Bobby can only imagine what it’d be like to get them off her.

“Bobby -” She murmurs against his skin, keeping their grinding at a steady pace. She kisses him again, more desperate than earlier. No more innocence. “I want -”

She bites her tongue, jolting a little as her underwear catches her clit in just the right place, sending sparks right up her spine. Bobby groans up into her mouth, the pressure on his crotch is sending his head into overdrive.

“What -” He gasps into her mouth as she keeps shoving herself down onto him, strong thighs straining but working hard. “What do you want?” He’s surprised he’s even able to speak right now.

“I -”

She’s cut off as a loud sound emits from downstairs. It sounds like the front door.

Oh. Crap.

Priya freezes her movements, sitting straight up, her hair moving like a wave in the air as it travels over her head and behind her. 

“Shit.” She says, climbing off him and rushing to the door.

Bobby watches as she cracks it open, hiding herself behind it slightly.

“Mum?” Priya calls.

Bobby lies there, staring up at her ceiling as she converses with her mother downstairs, through the door. She’s back early from taking Priya’s sisters to diving practice. Of course. Their conversation goes on for a little while, the noise of their voices at some point blurs into one fuzzy thing in the back of Bobby’s mind as he keeps staring up at her ceiling.

It’s pristine white. Not like a regular teenagers room these days. No posters or weird little stickers or junk. Just a nice clean slate. Bobby is not sure if he likes it.

“You gotta go.” Priya sighs, standing at the side of her bed. At some point she’s put her shirt back on. No more boobs on show for Bobby to label as nice. _Idiot_ , he thinks again.

“Oh. Okay.” He nods. “You gotta sneak me out though.”

Priya just laughs and agrees, taking his hand.

  
  


**

  
  


“Should I take her out on a date?” Bobby looks out his window, frowning as the rain starts to pelt at the glass at full force. 

“Probably.” Chelsea nods from her place on the floor.

Noah makes a loud, interested noise. “Take her somewhere with nice food!”

They’re hanging out in Bobby’s room the next day. Stuck indoors from the sudden storm that has hit sunny Spain. 

“I have no money for nice food.” Bobby grimaces.

“You don’t need to take her somewhere fancy,” Chelsea adds, playing down Noah’s words. “Just somewhere that’s comfortable for the both of you! Not just her. You have to be okay with it too. Otherwise you just won’t have fun.”

“Yeah.” Bobby sighs. “But it’s not about me though, is it? I want to impress her.”

“Why?”

“So… that she likes me more?”

“Bro.” Noah rolls his eyes. “She already likes you. She literally has told you. You don’t need to impress.”

"It's nice to impress though." Chelsea shrugs.

"Impressing will just delay!" Noah counters. "Priya is clearly ready for her day at the rodeo." He twirls an imaginary lasso in the air, giving Bobby a big smile. Bobby gags.

"You're disgusting." Chelsea rolls her eyes but tries not to laugh.

"She's ready to hop on the Bobby train." Noah cups his hand around his mouth, projecting his voice even more. " _Toot-toot_! All aboard!"

They all jump as a crack of thunder fills their ears and the blinding lightning fills the room for a split second. Shadows dance around in the room as the lightning continues it’s terror before subsiding and letting the rain take the centre forward again. They all stare out of Bobby’s window as the noise of the rain grows louder.

“Jesus.” Chelsea shuffles over to the window sill and rests her chin on it. “Thought this place was all sunshine and rainbows. What are we supposed to do?”

Lifeguard training has been called off indefinitely. 

The red flags were already up when Bobby arrived at the beach this morning, signalling that no one can get into the water. His heart deflated a little seeing that Poppy’s surfboard wasn’t even there. He waited for Chelsea and Noah to arrive hours later, propped up against the wall near the Slushie Spot. The torrential rain started just as they were walking back to Bobby’s place.

The Mediterranean is often described as predictable. Hot dry summers with warm wet winters. The summer is basically an economic resource for Spain now, attracting those beloved tourists every year. But for whatever reason, a severe storm is making its mark, in spectacular fashion, driving everyone inside. 

Noah takes a seat next to Chelsea and stares out the window.

“I hate the rain.” He groans. His forehead thumps on the glass as he leans forwards. “You can’t do shit in the rain.”

“You can do plenty in the rain.” Bobby defends from his place on the bed. “As a born and raised Glaswegian, trust me, you can do plenty in the rain.”

"Oh yeah?" Noah turns to him, big smirk on his face and wiggling his eyebrows.

"Not like that, perv." Bobby laughs. "I've barely done anything like that."

"Not even with Priya?" Chelsea turns to him and frowns. "What about -"

Bobby makes a loud, alarmed sound, cutting Chelsea off.

"... What was that?" Noah laughs.

"Nothing. Nothing." Bobby forces a smile at him, waiting for him to look out the window again. When Chelsea gives him a weird look, he shakes his head quickly. _Oh._ It clicks for her.

"I taught Priya how to give blowjobs and now Bobby's embarrassed." Chelsea says quickly.

" _Chelsea!_ "

"What?" She pouts. "Noah was gonna find out one way or another."

" _What?!_ ” Noah yells so hard a little patch of the window fogs up in front of him. Chelsea winces and covers her ears. “You went to Chelsea for advice?!" He gasps, placing a hand on his chest in offence. "Why didn't you come to _me?_ "

"Well, first off, I don't think you're first in line to be giving out tips on how to suck a dick." Bobby frowns. "And we didn't directly go to her! We just, ugh -" He pinches the bridge of his nose. "She just happened to be around."

"I'm offended." Noah crosses his arms.

"Noah -"

" _Offended_." He whips his head around to not look at him. The big baby. "Can't believe Chelsea is your sex guru."

“She is not my sex guru!”

“Oh my god, I’m a sex guru!” Chelsea claps her hands together, ecstatic.

An idea hits Noah. His eyes go wide, like when he is about to suggest something really, really stupid. Oh boy, here we go. Bobby watches the cogs turn in his head until he elicits a small yelp of excitement and gets up from the floor.

“Bobby -” Noah clambers up the bed and sits opposite Bobby, bouncing with pure joy. “I hereby submit my application to join your council of sex gurus.”

“Stop calling it a sex guru.”

“Tantra teacher?” Noah tries.

“No.”

“Muff master!” Chelsea adds, making Noah crack up.

“ _Stop._ ”

“Cooch counsellor -”

“Guys!” Bobby yells up at his ceiling. “I don’t need sex advice.”

“Oh, Bobby.” Chelsea tuts from her place next to the window. “You are in dire need of aid, youngling.”

“Yes!” Noah nods. “What if you stick it in the wrong hole?”

“I think I can figure out the difference between a vagina and butthole.”

“Have you even seen a vagina?” Chelsea challenges, raising an eyebrow.

That’s when Bobby shuts his mouth. Damn it.

“A-ha!” Noah looks so damn happy. “Face it. You need us.”

“Noah, you are just as big of a virgin as I am.” Bobby grumbles.

“Well. I know things.” He sits back, crossing his arms.

“How?”

“I have my ways.”

“Oh no, no no.” Bobby chuckles, staring at him. “You do not get to join my council of sex gurus if you don’t tell me when you’ve done your research.”

Noah strokes his chin and squints his eyes, very much in thought, wanting to counter his argument. Hm. He decides not to argue for once.

“Come on,” He gets up from Bobby’s bed and heads for the door. “I’ll show you.”

  
  


**

  
  


“ _Ma!_ ”

Christ, Noah can be loud when he wants to be.

The group have trekked their way to Noah’s house. God knows why, considering the literal storm brewing outside. They’re all soaked, their rain-macs having done absolutely nothing, completely defeated and drenched. Chelsea looks like she’s been drowned, hair sticking to her face and neck.

“ _Ma!_ ” Noah shouts again, shucking off his coat and tossing it on the hanger sitting next to the door. He marches further into the house, not looking back.

Bobby and Chelsea watch as the coat falls off the hook, making a loud squelch sound as it hits the ground.

“ _What!?_ ” They hear a female voice scream back.

“ _I have friends over!_ ”

“ _Why?_ ” She yells again.

Nice to know where Noah inherited his volume from.

“ _Because, they are!_ ”

“ _Don’t get anything wet!_ ”

“ _We won't!_ ”

“ _I swear to God, Noah, if you get anything wet_ -”

“ _I won’t! Christ, mum!_ ”

Chelsea bumps Bobby on the arm. They exchange a very confused look. 

Before they can comment, Noah comes barrelling back through the house, wet sneaks skidding on the wooden floors. He toes them off, kicking them in the vague direction of the front door. Mud flies off of one of them and splatters on the nice, clean cream wall. Jesus.

“Come on!” Noah is already halfway up the stairs.

The other two just stand there, in the foyer, sopping wet. Chelsea looks at the mud marks on the wall and back at the stairs where Noah once was. She gives Bobby a look again. He just shrugs. They follow him upstairs, after painstakingly and carefully removing their wet coats and trainers.

It’s a nice house. Similar to the one Bobby is staying in, with his family. And Terry. It looks more lived in though, a little more worn. But, Bobby likes that. There is history behind that. Family trinkets and photos are scattered around everywhere. He stops to look at one in the landing. It's a group portrait of Noah’s family.

He looks a lot younger than he does now. Probably around 11 or 12, before those hormones started kicking in. He’s still got that big, fat grin though. Classic Noah. His mother looks just as happy, sitting next to where Noah is standing, hands delicately placed on her lap like how she was probably instructed. Noah’s father, or who Bobby presumes is his father, stands tall in the back of the portrait, hand on Noah’s shoulder. His smile looks a little tight. Not all there with it.

He really looks like Noah. Eyes, nose, mouth, jaw - everything. But there’s no light in his eyes like his son’s.

“What you looking at?” Chelsea asks, softly.

Bobby startles a little. He didn’t even hear her coming up behind him, thinking she was already in Noah’s room. He whips around to look at her, not entirely sure what to say.

“Just -” He looks at the picture again, staring at Noah’s little happy face. “Nothing. Noah looks really happy in this photo.”

Bobby laughs when Chelsea points out he looks like he has a coat hanger in his mouth. They’re cut short when Noah calls them into his room, elation in his tone.

They watch from their place on the floor as Noah searches frantically through the bottom drawer of his wardrobe, clothes flying up and behind him until he pulls out a shoe box. He turns and places it down on the carpet between them all.

"A shoebox?" Chelsea asks, carefully. She's not sure what else to say so keeps her mouth shut.

Noah nods, excited, as he slowly opens the lid to reveal… uh - a bunch of VHS tapes?

"Tapes." Bobby says blankly.

"Not just any tapes." Noah grabs one and holds it up above his head, like it's sacred. " _Porn_!"

"Oh my god -" Chelsea sighs as Bobby exclaims a loud "Cool!"

“Porn? Are you for real right now, Noah?” Chelsea stares at him in disbelief. “We’re supposed to be educating.”

"You can learn from these!" Noah completely brushes off Chelsea’s comment, holding out the tape. He taps it, looking at Bobby. "I like to think I've picked up a few things." He smiles as he hands it over to Bobby.

"Too bad you won't be using them anytime soon." Bobby teases and grins. Chelsea snorts. Noah gives him the finger.

Chelsea pulls the box with the rest of the tapes in towards her, flicking through them and laughing at the pictures on the front. Some are quite tame and others ridiculously graphic. Chelsea laughs particularly loud at one with a man in a bull costume and a woman dressed as a sexy Matador, straddling him.

"Where did you even get these? You're not even old enough to buy it." Chelsea grimaces, but looks interested. She scooches closer and kneels next to Bobby who is still staring down at the tape in his hands.

"Dunno." Noah shrugs. "Found it in my dad's stuff."

It's all in Spanish and no surprise they're all unable to read the titles. But, you don't really need to, considering the visuals plastered on the front of the cases. 

“Do you…” Bobby trails off, not sure why is even about to ask this question. “Have you wanked to these?”

Chelsea’s attention is nabbed straight away, looking at Noah with curious eyes. Noah purses his lips and blinks once. He scratches the back of his head as his eyes scan the box of tapes before locking with Bobby’s again. Ah. That’s all Bobby needs to know.

“Jesus, man.” Chelsea frowns at the box.

It’s a very weird feeling being presented with your friends mastubation material. Not one that Bobby really understands. And definitely one that he never wants to feel again. There are many, many tapes in this box. Noah must be a busy boy.

Bobby stares down at the one in his hands. The title reads _‘_ _Una Pelea de Amantes’_. A very curvaceous, brunette woman is strewn across a bed or some kind of fabric, staring straight forward. She's arching her back and bum up into the air so much it doesn't look physically possible. She has a purple-ish, sheer robe with a feathery boa collar and cuffs around her, covering absolutely nothing. 

Her tits are just - _there_ \- huge and round to match her buttox, which is wrapped up in the skimpiest piece of underwear Bobby has ever seen. Is it even underwear if it just sits between your buttcrack? And to top it off she's holding a prop gun, tongue poking out between big luscious red lips and lapping at the barrel. 

All very bizarre.

"Why does she have a gun?" Bobby frowns, taking his eyes off the case for the first time in about 3 minutes.

"I don't know. I didn't really understand the plot when I watched it. So, I watched a different one." Noah says genuiley, like they’re talking about art house films or something, not goddamn pornography.

"There's a _story_ ?" Chelsea cackles. "Oh. This I _must_ see." 

She grabs the tape out of Bobby's hand, scrambling over to where Noah's TV set is sitting beside them. The boys don't even have time to protest before she gets it out the case and slots it in the player. 

Oh, fuck it. If Bobby's about to watch a porno with his mates he might as well get comfortable. He takes a seat next to Chelsea. Noah shrugs and joins. They all crowd around the TV, bouncing in anticipation and waiting for it to start.

They're all silent as they listen to the small clicking mechanical noises as the tape settles in. The screen lights up with black and white static before opening with a title sequence. Chelsea snorts at the cheesy music, making the others laugh too. They all bop along to the erratic bass line, deep and funky like disco music.

It cuts to a wide shot of the woman on the front of tape, striding through a beautiful mansion on some Spanish hillside. She's walking with purpose, all of her… parts, bouncing and jiggling under that robe she's wearing.

"That robe is covering nothing." Chelsea frowns. "I can see her nipples!"

"I think that's the point." Bobby says, not taking his eyes off the screen.

The woman opens the front door of the house, to be greeted with a very, very good looking man standing on her doorstep. He's tan, standing tall over her and shoulders so wide and broad his shirt is straining just the tiniest bit. His long hair flows as he walks past her and into the house.

They start conversing in Spanish of course, talking dramatically and quickly. It's like a TV drama, just with a lot more naked skin. Suddenly they're in an argument, arms flailing wildly.

"See." Noah points. "I don't understand them. This is where I got lost and turned it off."

"She seems really mad." Bobby tilts his head, not taking his eyes away from the screen.

"The gun!" Chelsea chirps happily as the woman quickly pulls the little pistol out of a pocket on her robe.

"Oh my - _what_?" Bobby laughs. "Does she shoot him?" He turns to Noah who just shrugs in response.

This is some serious telenovela shit. The characters wrestle on screen. Well, fake wrestle. The man grabs the woman's wrist, easily overpowering her and forcing the pistol away from him. They grunt and pant as they fight, screaming in Spanish at each other still. 

The gun clatters to the marble floor, finally out of her grip. It's all very… awful. Acting wise. She keeps screaming something at him over and over, tears beginning to fill her eyes and stream down her cheeks, taking her heavily applied mascara with it.

" _Te odio!_ " She wails. " _Te odio! Te odio!"_

She's hitting his chest, her cries getting quieter and quieter. She finally settles down, going limp in the man's arms. It's all very tense in the room.

And then they kiss. Chelsea rolls her eyes so hard.

It's not a romantic kiss. No passion or anything like that. They're enveloping each other in their arms, sticking their tongues against each other's, like they're trying to taste each other's saliva. It's very loud and wet and looks god awful.

"Ugh." Bobby says, scrunching up his nose. "Why are they doing that?"

"It's porn." Noah deadpans.

It cuts again, both of them now in an extravagant bedroom. You know the kind with a huge king-sized bed, with dark towering bedposts and delicate curtains hanging off them. The sheets are a satin red, like the picture on the front of the case.

The woman claws at the man's clothes, his huge hairy chest becoming exposed as she rips his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. They all chuckle at how ridiculous it's getting, the characters on screen dramatically moaning and gasping as their clothes come off. 

And then the dude drops his trousers and briefs. _What the fuck._ The boys go quiet. Chelsea wails with laughter as their faces drop, staring at probably the biggest dick they've ever seen. Even his balls are huge.

"That's a big dick." Bobby says, kind of amazed.

"What the hell." Noah's eyes are wide, leaning closer to the screen to get a better look. "That _cannot_ be real. Look at his nuts!"

It cuts again and the woman is now on her hands and knees, shrieking everytime the man thrusts inside of her. Guess there is no time for foreplay in the realm of the porn world then. It's not a particularly flattering angle, from behind, in the midst of the guy's ballsack smacking against this poor woman like a wrecking ball.

The guy is really going for it. It doesn't look very comfortable, but this is not real after all. The woman's moans, if you can even call them that, are so loud and obnoxious, it makes Chelsea cringe.

Bobby doesn't speak a word of Spanish but the brunette is moaning " _Sí, sí, sí_!" over and over again, so he's pretty sure she's having a good time. His face grows hot just listening to it.

The woman is the complete polar opposite to the man. He's dead silent, apart from the occasional grunt falling out of him. He has a dead look in his eyes, like he has no interest in any of this.

"There is no way she is enjoying that." Chelsea says. "Why does sex never look fun for girls?"

"What?" The boys say at the same time, not taking their eyes off the screen.

Chelsea glances over at them, unimpressed, before looking back at the TV. The angle of the shot has changed, the women's boobs bouncing right in front of the camera. For goodness sake.

"Seriously?" Chelsea waves her hands in front of the screen to distract them. "They're not even kissing, what is sexy about that?"

"Given their current position I don't think they can kiss." Noah says, looking over at her.

"That's my point! He can't even see her face!"

Bobby is kind of listening, mentally taking notes as he watches. _Hands on hips_. _Not too fast or you'll finish too fast. No grunting._ As if Chelsea is reading his mind she starts talking again.

"Don't fuck like that. Girls don't like that." She says, shaking her head and watching still as the man rolls the woman over onto her back.

"Really?" Bobby frowns and takes his attention away from the TV. "What do they like?"

"Depends." Chelsea shrugs.

"On?"

"Dunno. You have to figure that out I guess -"

They're interrupted by a loud grunt emitting from the TV. The guy is viciously jacking off, moaning loudly maybe for the first time the whole damn video.

"Jesus -" Noah's face curls up in a scowl.

The man's groans grow louder, alongside the wet, slippery sounds of his jerking off. Sounds like wet meat getting slapped together at speed. It’s pretty… disgusting. The woman is talking rapidly again, urging him on. Bobby has no idea what's being said but it's probably something blasphemous. He kinda likes the idea of dirty talking in Spanish.

They’re all so entranced and grossed out that they don’t even notice Noah’s door opening until it bangs on the wall and his mother lets out an ungodly scream as she gets a good look at the TV.

“Noah, sweetheart — _Oh my God!_ ”

They all jump and then look up, wide eyed. Chelsea screams and dives towards the TV, plastering her hands all over it to block out the image of the massive veiny penis getting vigorously stroked on screen. She is barely covering the screen with her small hands.

The man finishes on the woman's stomach, letting it streak all over her. It even hits her hard dark nipples at one point. And there is _a lot_ to streak all over her. It feels like it goes on for a lifetime.

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

_Fuck!_

Bobby scrambles for the TV as well, jabbing at the eject button, but it’s not working. _It’s not fucking working._ Holy mother Mary and Joseph.

“Jesus - fuck - _shit_!” Noah is fumbling with the remote, pressing whatever buttons he can to turn it off.

Oh, Christ. Oh fucking hell. Of all the times for his mum to walk in. He hits the volume by accident, sending the wet sounds into the stratosphere of loud.

“ _Noah Alan Wright!_ ” His mother yells, covering her eyes.

Fuck, this is not happening. This is not happening. But it is.

Bobby bangs his knee on the screen as he gets up, knocking into Chelsea as he leans over and rips whatever cables plugged into the wall out. Holy fuck, this is so embarrassing. For the love of god, please work. If the floor could open and swallow Bobby up right now it’d be the best thing to ever happen to him.

The TV cuts out as he tugs on the last cable he can get his hands on, the screen fades to black. It falls silent. No more grotesque noises filling the room. Nothing. 

Noah is red in the face, looking like he is about to heave his guts out all over his bedroom floor.

“Mum -“

“Oh my god.” She shakes her head, hands raking down her face and falling to her sides. She holds up her hands and backs up out of the room. "Noah -"

“It’s not what it looks like!” He pleads.

“Hey - it’s -“ She doesn’t know what to say, just as embarrassed. “If that’s what you kids are into these days then -“

“ _Mum!_ ” Noah shoots up, wide eyed. “No! It’s not - we were just -“

“It’s fine -“ She stutters. “It’s - I’ll… I’ll speak to you later.”

She closes the door slowly. The latch clicking in place sounds so loud it makes Bobby’s heart drop.

"Your middle name is Alan?” Chelsea can't stop her giddy smile.

Bobby is lying on his back on the floor, wires in his grip, panting for breath, starting to grin as well.

“Holy fucking shit.” Noah stares down at the floor, not blinking. Traumatised.

“Your mum just saw a huge dick on your TV.” Bobby says, laughing to himself.

“Holy fucking shit.” Noah repeats.

“That was getting jerked off.” Chelsea adds, giggling too.

Chelsea catches Bobby’s eye and they both break out into outrageously loud laughter. Holy _shit._ Chelsea can’t breath, her lungs feel on fire. Bobby is crying, tears steadily streaming out the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks. Fuck.

Noah is not at all impressed, scowl plastered on his face and still red as a tomato.

After they calm down, Bobby plugs the TV back in. Thankfully it just goes to a static screen and not the video. Chelsea leans over and presses the eject button. They all stare as the tape pops out. Damn.

"Can I take this home?" Bobby asks quietly, pointing to the tape and glancing over at Noah.

"Sure." He nods, looking dazed.

Chelsea groans and throws her hands in the air. Ugh. She gives up. So much for educating.

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ello, ello, ello!
> 
> back with another chapter, grotesque and dumb as ever!! most of this was inspired by true events! lock your doors!! if anyone has any embarrasing watching porn stories i would love to know them 🤪
> 
> thank you so much for reading! 💘


	9. Sun, Sun, Sun, Here It Comes

**

_Rain, rain, go away,_

_Come again another day,_

_All the family wants to play,_

_Rain, rain, go away._

  
  


**

_Tick…_ _Tick….Tick._

If Bobby has ever come close to anything as loud and obnoxious as Noah, it’s the big clock on the wall in Terry’s kitchen. 

He watches as the thin handle makes its way around the face, growing restless as he focuses on it make one round trip. And then two. And three. Time seems to slow down the longer he watches it.

 _Tick…_ _Tick… Tick._

The storm still hasn’t passed. It’s been three days since the… incident. It was a little bit of a mad rush to leave the house after Noah had given Bobby the tape. Chelsea and himself raced down the stairs, leaving Noah to wallow, knowing that he has to face his mother again after what she saw them doing. Poor dude.

As soon as Chelsea and Bobby made their way outside, the rain had escalated even more somehow. With no time for formalities, Chelsea gave him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek before running down the street, trainers getting soaked as she stomped through the puddles. Bobby did the same, holding the VHS tape under his coat, so it didn’t get too wrecked. To his relief, it didn’t.

He can’t see much when he tears his gaze from the clock to outside the window, everything is grey blur of rain and the other houses close by. The rain is striking up against the house, round loud drops landing on the windows and roof. Every so often, lightning flashes, illuminating the room alongside the candles dotted about.

_Tick._

The power went out about an hour ago. No TV or radio. Nothing. Bobby can’t even use the stereo in his room and he’s never felt so lost.

_Tick._

Ugh. This was not how he pictured his summer vacation going.

"Weather's really not letting up, huh?" Terry states from his place at the dinner table.

They're playing Yahtzee, the only board game that Terry had in the house. Bobby physically has to exert energy to not roll his eyes at Terry, as much as he really wants to. Emily pokes him under the table when he doesn't realise his face is turning down into a frown, just by looking at Terry. God, Bobby can not stand him.

"It's certainly not getting any better." Their mother adds giggling, shaking dice in her closed fist.

Her laugh is stopped short when a thump echos from upstairs. They all look up, to see the ceiling light jiggle for a second and swing back into place. Huh.

“Was that thunder?” Bobby sits up, looking straight up.

It didn’t sound like thunder. Didn’t feel like thunder either. Definitely something to do with the house.

"Is a window open?" Terry frowns, eyeing up the ceiling light.

"Don't think so." Emily murmurs.

“Can you go check?” Terry turns to Bobby.

_Tick._

Bobby doesn’t even answer. His face falls to straight-up annoyance as he pushes back his chair. He grabs one of the candles on his way out, holding it out and making a path of light for him as he walks through the house. Maybe if he focuses really hard, Terry can hear all the profanities bouncing around in his brain right now. Fuck sake.

He drags his feet as he makes his way up the stairs, making sure his steps are extra loud the higher he ascends. He checks the master bedroom first, pushing at the door gently until the door creaks and swings open by itself. He peers in, eyes darting to the window. It’s locked. Phew. 

He pokes around some of the things lying on the nightstand. He recognises the bottle of perfume his mother always uses, sitting next to a book. The title reads ‘ _What We Talk About When We Talk About Love’_. Hm. He flips it over, looking closer at the blurb printed on the back, explaining the book is a collection of short stories. Bobby’s never been one for reading, never had a reason or any interest to do it.

He checks the main bathroom next. The white tile is blinding as another lightning strike fills the room, alongside a clap of thunder. Window is closed and locked in here too. He goes into Emily’s room next, greeted with another locked window. 

Emily’s room is scattered with clothes, hanging off the back of her vanity chair and across the floor. He walks over to the mirror propped up on her vanity table, littered with polaroids.. He carefully sets the candle down on the surface top, looking closer at the pictures. They’re mostly of her with friends, most of them Bobby doesn’t recognise.

Bobby doesn’t really cross paths with his sister anymore, being that she’s 4 years older than him, they don’t really have any reason to. As soon as Emily turned 14 or 15, she blossomed into a social teenager. Constantly out in town with friends after school or around their houses on the weekends. And Bobby, being the younger sibling, was way too young to do any of those things. And especially too different to tag along with his sister’s friends.

Siblings can grow apart and that’s okay. Well, Bobby thinks it’s okay. There is always going to be some natural distance when you grow up and become your own person with your own interests and friends and opinions. It’s completely natural. But being 11 years old without many friends and barely being friends with your own sister can be tough. And it was.

Things are better now. Their parents divorce surprisingly brought them closer together, family mentality kicking in for the both of them. If they don’t have their parents then at least they have each other.

Bobby eyes one of the more tattered photos, one of its sides tucked under the frame of the mirror. It’s of them, alongside their parents. Bobby looks very young, maybe 5 or 6 years old. He’s in his mother's arms and Emily is sat on top of their father’s shoulders, grinning wide and showing off her missing teeth. They’re standing outside of their old family home, framed by the steps leading up to the front and trees sitting in the front garden.

He really misses that house.

He jumps a little when another clap of thunder sounds, reminding him why he’s upstairs in the first place. This feels way more creepy than it should, but he guesses that walking around in the dark with a candle in his grip isn’t exactly a nice setting. He makes his way out of her room, carefully stepping around her clothes, making sure he doesn’t leave a trace.

Just as he’s about to walk into his own room, he hears a noise again, like the rustle of blinds against the wall. Fuck, maybe he did leave his window open. He pushes the door, letting it swing all the way out and banging on his dresser obnoxiously.

And to his immediate surprise, Poppy is standing in the middle of his room.

She’s mostly a silhouette, her figure being outlined by the little bit of moonlight streaming in through the window. She's sopping wet and ringing out her hair with one of his towels. She doesn't even look phased as she glances up to see who's entered.

“ _What -_ “

"Diana Ross." Poppy says, cutting him off and sounding a little out of breath. 

Bobby goes to say hi in reply, stopping short when he realises she didn't actually greet him. What the hell is going on. She gives her hair one more tight squeeze before throwing it back and shaking it out. 

"Huh?" Bobby’s eyebrows draw together and he frowns at her.

"Diana Ross." She throws the towel back on the chair he has in the corner of his room.

Is he in the middle of a fever dream right now? Maybe he’s fallen asleep at the dinner table and this is all part of his imagination running wild. His eyes land on the towel and then back to her, where she’s taking her rainmac off and dumping it next to the window. He quickly closes the door behind him and rests the candle on the dresser.

"You're soaking wet." He says.

"I know." She huffs as she closes his window and draws the blinds.

“Do you always have to break in? I have a front door you know.”

“I didn’t _break in._ ” She gasps, playing the fake offended card. “I merely came in through the window. It was already open!”

Damn it. So he did leave it open.

"Did you walk all the way here?" Bobby asks.

"Yeah."

“In the rain?”

Poppy gives him an unamused look and cocks her head to the side as she gestures to her drenched self.

"To... talk about Diana Ross?"

“Jesus, are we playing 21 questions?”

“You broke into my house! I can ask questions!”

"You asked me what other music I liked. The other day." She drops to the floor next to her bag and rummages through it. She pulls out a cassette.

A smile plays on her face as she passes the tape over to him. Water continues to run down her hair, clinging onto her clothes and shoes. She's so into the conversation it looks like she doesn't even realise she is drenched.

“ _Diana. Ross._ ” She claps her hands together for emphasis.

The case is quite worn, the clear plastic almost a faded white now, scattered with dull scratches and marks. The cover on the inside looks old, tattered edges with a small rip down one of the sides, close to the portrait of Diana Ross illustrated on the front. 

"Oh." Bobby examines it, poking the edges with his fingers. “Do you like The Supremes then?” His voice gets a little higher, excited. 

“Love them.” Her eyes sparkle, like his.

“Oh, yeah?”

Poppy nods, eagerly.

"So, you do love something?"

"Just a bit." She shrugs.

"Is this you being less cynical?" He teases, quietly.

"Maybe."

The smiles she shoots at him is so genuine, he has to duck his head down, not able to handle all of it. She’s like the sun, easily able to engulf all of him if he flies too close. Bobby’s laugh is a little sheepish, not knowing what to say so he looks at the tape in his hands again. 

He doesn't realise, or care for that matter, that she's intruded into his room and he has certainly forgotten his family are all still downstairs. Most likely waiting for him. Yahtzee is serious business.

"I did want to talk to you though." Poppy takes a seat on the floor. "Not just about music."

She leans back on her hands, legs stretching out and sneakers tapping together and she sways her feet. Bobby follows her eyes roam around his room. It feels a little intimate. The dim lighting from the candle is certainly trying to set some type of mood. Even though she's been in his room before, even looked through his stuff before, he can't stop his heart starting to ramp up. There's not much of his belongings here but it's still his, a little private piece of him that she is getting exposed to and learning about.

"Oh." He blinks once. Twice. "...About?"

"The prank." She states, looking straight at him.

"The… prank?"

" _The prank._ "

"The prank." He repeats again. "Y'know, I won't really understand what you're talking about if you just keep repeating it."

"Har-Har.” She pokes her tongue out at him. “You really are being a smartass today." She grins.

"It is my specialty behind being weird."

Poppy frowns. "You're not weird."

"I am -"

"Awkward, maybe." She holds a hand up to interrupt him. "But not weird. If you're weird then everyone else is fucking nuts."

Bobby tries his best not to smile too much. She always knows what to say to make his heart flip in his chest, even though she doesn’t mean to. Nor does she know it. Bobby can’t help it. He looks at his door and then back at her when he hears laughter from downstairs.

Fuck.

“Crap. Yahtzee.” He thinks out loud.

“What?” Poppy sputters a laugh.

“Wait here.” He gestures with his hands. “I need to go back downstairs.”

“Why?”

“We were -” Oh, god. She’s gonna know how much of a dork he really is. “I was playing Yahtzee. With my family.” _And Terry._

Poppy snickers. “My grandma loves that game.” She mumbles as she stares up at him.

“It’s terrible.” Bobby groans. “If I have to roll anymore dice I’m going to launch them across the room.”

“Always a drama queen.”

“That is how much I hate it!”

“It’s not too bad.”

“If not too means a lot then, yeah, sure - it’s not too bad.” Bobby throws his hands in the air, walking to the door.

Poppy laughs sudden and loud. Okay, maybe Yahtzee isn’t amazing. Just as he’s about to leave, he watches her laugh deflate into nothing, but her body keeps shaking for a second or two afterwards. She tenses and sucks in a breath, trying to stop the trembling.

“Oh, fuck -“ Bobby straightens up. “You’re shivering.”

“I’m not -“

“You are.” He’s pulling the sweatshirt he’s wearing over his head before he’s even fully thought about it. He holds it out to her. “Here.”

“Bobby, I’m fine.” She stresses, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“You’re _not_. You’re cold. Here, take it.” He thrusts the jumper at her.

“I don’t -“

“ _Take it._ ” He throws at her.

She slumps and looks at his rumbled up sweatshirt in her lap before putting it on over her clothes. It’s still warm with his body heat, wrapping her up nice and cosy. She tries not to look too happy as she gets comfortable in it, watching Bobby cross his room and raid his wardrobe for something else to wear.

“Thanks.” She mumbles, pulling the sleeves over her hands, lapping up as much of his heat as possible. Bobby doesn’t hear her over the scrape and clang of his hangers.

“I’ll be right back.” He sighs as he pulls on a different sweatshirt.

She watches as he rushes out the room, closing his door quietly and slowly. As he spins around to make his way back downstairs, he has the fright of his life. He screeches, like one of the many seagulls in the early morning, as he bumps into his sister standing close to him. The candle she’s holding is lighting up the bottom of her face, looking like something straight up from a Stephen King book.

“ _Em!_ ” Fuck. His heart is going a crazy. “You scared the fuck out of me -“

“What are you doing?”

“What?” Bobby straightens up, face falling to not look suspicious. He knows it’s not working but he’ll try anyways.

“In your room.” Emily crosses her arms. “I heard you talking.”

“I wasn’t talking.”

“I heard you.”

Bobby grinds his teeth together, trying to think.

“I was talking to myself.”

“Aye. So, you were talking?” Her expression melts into something along the line of absolute smugness. Ugh, older siblings.

“Yes.” Bobby says, tightly.

Emily points her attention down to his hands.

“Why do you have a Diana Ross tape?”

Bobby looks down, completely having forgotten he’s still holding Poppy’s tape. Crap.

“I’ve always had this tape.” He comes out with.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve - Dad gave it to me ages ago.”

Bobby knows she’s not really buying it. She takes it off him, examining it for herself. Bobby bites his tongue, almost throwing his hands out to grab the tape back off her. _Jesus, chill out._ Emily looks at him again and frowns one more time.

“Different sweatshirt?”

Bobby looks down at himself, again. For goodness sake. He takes the tape off of her.

“Yeah, I came up here to change.”

“I thought you came up here to check the windows?” She challenges.

“Look -“ He scrubs a hand over his face. He’s so done. The last thing he needs right now is his sister walking into his room to find a _girl_. The wrong girl, at that. “The windows are fine. Can we just go back downstairs?”

Emily holds her hands up in defeat, turning around and strolling back down the stairs. Bobby stays in front of his door, watching until she has fully disappeared before walking away himself. He shoves the Diana Ross cassette in his pocket. Neither of them say anything when they situate themselves back at the dinner table.

Bobby figures he can stay downstairs for about an hour before Poppy gets restless by herself. And it’s enough time to not look suspicious when he starts his wanting to go to bed early routine. He throws in a few yawns around 20 minutes in or so. A deep sigh whenever he has to roll the dice for himself. And then pretending he’s losing count of his score or not knowing what the combinations he’s hitting are. 

When it gets to about 40 minutes, he stretches his arms above his head, letting out another big yawn. Emily eyes Bobby suspiciously as Terry enthusiastically reads out everyone’s scores for their most recent round. Bobby loses by… a lot. Awh, shucks - such a shame. When he stretches his arms again, his mother reaches over the table to pat his arm.

“You alright sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I’m just -” He pauses to cover his mouth from another yawn. It makes Terry yawn as well. “Just a little tired. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” She frowns at him.

“I’m sure, I think it’s the storm. Just tuckering me out.”

Emily folds her arms on the table and raises an eyebrow at him. Nah, there’s no way she’s falling for this. She gently kicks him under the table. He shoots her disapproving look. _Don’t ruin this._

“Oh, bub.” Their mum frowns, big sympathetic eyes locked on him. “Here -” She gets up from the table. “Let me make you some milk and you can go up.”

“Oh, no - you don’t need to -”

“No. No. It’s fine.” She gives him a squeeze on the shoulder as she shuffles past to the fridge.

Emily kicks him under the table again. He muffles his screech by biting into his fist.

“Actually -” Terry yawns one more time. “Think I might turn in, too.”

Emily rolls her eyes so hard, they look detached.. Success.

“You too?”

“Yeah. Knackered, I am.”

The scrape of his chair on the linoelm is loud, drowning out the noise of the room. Terry is peppered in kisses by their mum before he makes his way out of the room and upstairs. Bobby fights hard to not grimace, making Emily laugh. But, he supposes he should be thankful in this moment, his early retreat to bed not looking too bad now that Terry is off and at ‘em. But not too thankful.

  
  


**

  
  


“Sorry.” Bobby exhales softly, closing his door slowly behind him. “Couldn’t get away.”

Poppy has already made herself at home, lying on her stomach in infront of some of the racking at the end of the room. She’s flicking through some of the vinyl and cassettes he has stacked up, next to an old record player. She’s completely dry now, wrapped up in his sweatshirt still. Her normally wavy hair has retreated into some kinky curls. He bites the inside of his cheek, thinking they’re incredibly adorable.

“It’s okay.” She hums, still looking through the music. She turns to look at him fully when he walks over. “You have a lot of -”

She suddenly snorts, looking up at him. He normally likes her laugh, but not when it’s directed at him.

“What?” He panics.

“Is that a glass of milk?” She covers her mouth, trying to keep her giggling to a minimum.

“Oh.” He breathes out, relieved. “My mum made it.” It’s not like he’s going to refuse. Not twice anyways.

“That’s sweet.” She turns back to look at his collection. “Dude. You have a lot of music here.”

“Yeah, well.” Bobby shrugs, putting the glass on his side table. “I like music. It’s practically the only thing I brought here. Well. And my clothes.”

“But there’s _so_ much!” Poppy kneels up, excited. Bobby watches as she carefully pulls out one of the records. “You have a first pressing of a Sister Sledge LP. So sick.”

“Dad gave it to me.” He nods.

Poppy makes a quiet, _ahh_ sound as she slots it back in place. She lightly skims her fingertips over the edges of the other albums close by, like she’s touching something precious. 

“I mean. You’ve got George Benson.” She points to another album. “The Whispers.” And another. “ _CHIC!_ ” She looks so excited. “You’ve got a huge collection, man.”

“Thanks!” His chest fills a little bit with pride. “But honestly, it’s not really my doing. This is all my dad.”

“Your dad like a lot of music?”

“Oh.” Bobby takes a seat next to her. “So much. He was always playing it through the house or in the car. Anywhere really.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It really was.” Bobby smiles to himself. “He used to take me to this small record store in the centre of Glasgow when he wanted to pick up new music. Probably where my obsession started.”

“Think it’s more of an infatuation at this point.” She nods at the many, many cassette tapes stacked up nearby.

The room is painted in a bright white light as lightning strikes again, closer to the house this time. They both startle and whip around to look out the window. Bobby turns to look at her when it strikes again.

“Don’t walk home.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“I’m serious, just -” He bites his lip. “Stay until it blows over, okay?”

“That could take hours.”

“So?”

“Aren’t you wanting to go to bed?” She laughs, pointing to his glass of milk on the table.

“Nah.” He shrugs, grinning. “I’m good.”

  
  


**

  
  


“Bobby.”

Nothing.

“ _Bobby._ ”

Poppy snaps her fingers in front of his face.

“ _Bobby!"_ She whispers a little louder, closer to him.

He jerks awake when she claps her hands together.

“Huh -” He shoots up from where he’d been lying on the floor. “What? I’m awake.”

“You’re awake _now._ ”

“Still awake.” He croaks as he lies back down on the floor, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “Totally awake.”

It’s early morning now, the room is almost completely dark, except for the candle on the side fighting for its last breaths. He looks over to his clock on his nightstand, the red numbers that normally reside there are still absent. The power must still be out. 

“I’m so _bored_.” She lies down next to him, whining up at the ceiling.

She doesn’t lie particularly close to him, a good friendly distance between them both. But, he can smell the rain water still clinging onto her hair. They both stare up, straight ahead at the posters stuck up on his ceiling. They’re not very well lit up by the candle in the corner of the room, but Poppy can just make out the one of Rick James singing into a microphone.

“Sorry.” Bobby mumbles.

“Not your fault.”

They’re quiet for a little longer, both staring into space. When Bobby feels his eyelids get heavy again, she turns her head to face him.

“21 questions?” Poppy asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Sure.” He blinks a few times, making sure he’s awake now.

“No pussyfooting about, okay?” She grins at him.

He holds up his hand and makes a small cross on his chest, smiling back. “Scout’s honour.”

Poppy taps her chin. “Most overrated film right now?”

“Jaws.” Bobby replies instantly.

“ _Jaws!?_ ”

“Hey, you asked!” Bobby looks at her, scowling. “It’s a damn shark, people! _Just stay out of the water._ ”

Poppy catches her laugh in the cuff of his sweatshirt pulled over her hands. 

“What is your favourite colour?” Bobby questions next.

“That’s what you wanna know?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s yellow.” She looks at him. “C’mon. You’ve got better questions than that.”

“Try me.”

“Alright. My turn.” She rolls over to lean on her arm. “Out of the team, what guy would you bang?”

“Oh -” He sits up. “We’re getting into the juicy stuff already?”

“Gotta raise the stakes.”

“Huh.” Bobby clicks his tongue. This is clearly a serious question so he’s going to give it some damn good thought. “Do I have to bang them forever?”

Poppy snorts and shakes her head. “Nah, just one good bang. One night of passion and then _poof_. Gone.” 

“Probably Henrik.” Bobby nods, happy with his decision.

“Oh?” Poppy looks surprised. “Didn’t think you’d ever be into blonds.”

“I don’t think I am.” He replies. “But they’re more fun, right? Perfect for a one night stand.”

“Ahh. Strategic.” She pokes her temple. “Smart.”

“One thing you would change about yourself?” He asks.

“Ah. The insecurities question.” She nods. “Nice touch.”

“Has to come out at some point.”

“True.” She purses her lips, staring down at the floor. Bobby watches her draw circles in the carpet with her finger. “Probably… my need to always be doing something.”

“Right.” Bobby frowns. “Not sure what you mean, but -” He shrugs. 

“I mean, like, I constantly have to be doing stuff or I just - I dunno. I don’t feel… good.” Her face clouds over with something that Bobby can’t really read. Thankfully, she snaps out of it and takes a big breath, asking him another question almost instantly.

“Would you rather kiss Chelsea or Noah?” Poppy grins, unable to hide her laugh when Bobby looks mortified at the questions.

“That’s like asking what sibling I would kiss!”

“You have to answer. No pussyfooting remember.”

“I -” Bobby’s face contorts into something beyond disgust. “I can’t.”

“You have to!”

“Ugh.” He shakes his head. “That’d be like asking you if you’d rather kiss Lottie or Gary or something.”

“Who says I haven’t?” Poppy tilts her head, curls falling past her shoulders.

“What -”

“I’m fucking with you.” She snickers. “Partially.”

“Ugh. Guess I’d have to go with Chelsea.” Bobby says. He barely gets the words out before he fake gags.

“Ey!” She swats at his arm and they both laugh. “You’d be lucky to kiss a girl like that.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Why not Noah?”

“Because! Noah eats anything and everything. He could easily devour me.”

Poppy doesn’t know why she’s laughing so hard, but all of a sudden she can’t stop. She rolls back onto her back, covering her mouth with both hands. Her breath comes in quick gaps between giggles, tears in her eyes ready to spill over. 

Bobby didn’t really think that about Noah. But he was scared of his immense eating habits.

“Is Priya your girlfriend?” Poppy asks up to the ceiling after she calms down.

Bobby’s heart misses a beat.

“What?” 

“Your girlfriend.” She repeats, looking him straight in the eyes. 

“I… don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Bobby stares at her, mouth tugging into a small frown. He desperately searches for an answer in his mind, but he… he honestly doesn’t know. He didn’t even realise people were aware of them. Let alone labelling them as something. 

“We skipped my turn.” He crosses his arms.

A flash of annoyance normally comes with bad ideas. And in this case Bobby has to bite his tongue. Hard. So close to asking her why she kissed Rocco at Lottie’s party. Why she stuck his stupid hand in her _shorts_ moments before kissing someone else. And why they haven’t even talked about it.

“Shoot.” Her voice is breezy.

But he doesn’t. If he speaks now, with any kind of anger running through him, he’ll certainly regret it. He gets up from the floor, funneling his energy in staying calm.

“Are you hungry?” Bobby questions.

Poppy blinks up at him, not expecting that at all.

“A little.”

“Me too.”

It takes all his strength to not say anything else, just using it to walk out the door and keep his hands relaxed. He knows she always needs to push things, needs to test limits. It’s something he’s always adored about her. He understands. But he won’t give her that kind of satisfaction. Not today, anyways. He doesn’t have to like it all the time.

  
  


**

  
  


They’re sat by the window at around 4:56am, just as the summer sun is beginning to break from the horizon, like Bobby’s seen so many times during his walks to the beach. It’s still raining, lightly now. It splatters on the window and across the rooftops in front of them. The water begins to catch the light as the sun rises, reflecting the pink sky. It’s stupidly beautiful.

A bag of salted crisps is moving slowly between them both, their crunching the only sound in the room alongside the rain still pitter pattering against the glass.

The room is a hazy mix of the nighttime darkness being pierced by the morning glow. Streaks of pink and yellow lie along the carpet and against their faces as they stare out the window. It’s still a little windy out, the tops of the palm trees sway with an uneasy rhythm, spraying off whatever water lands on them. 

The pure white of the thin clouds dance along the sky, being carried by the breeze. They move over the sun, splitting up the rays of light and making them dance all over the houses and streets. Everything looks so peaceful.

“I love when the clouds look like this.” Poppy sighs, not taking her gaze away from outside the window.

“Huh?” Bobby looks over at her, screwing his eyes closed and open again, still trying to stay awake. 

“The clouds.” She gently taps her finger on the glass. “I love when they’re all wispy and streaky. Looks like a painting.”

“Oh.” He nods. “You can add that to your list.”

“Noted.” She chuckles.

“Why clouds?” He asks quietly, turning his attention back to the outside.

“Dunno -“ She shrugs. “They’re just… they’re nice to look at. I feel at peace.” Her lips pull into a big smile. “They’re the same everywhere. And wherever I am, looking at the clouds, that comfort will always follow me there.”

They go quiet again, lolling in her words as they keep staring out the window. It really does look like a painting out there. They need a better view.

Bobby shifts up onto his knees, pulling on the cord and sending the blinds all the way to the top of his window with a loud rattle. He unlocks the window, pushing it all the way open, feeling only a little bit guilty as the sound of the rain and wind is amplified by a hundred. 

Poppy just grins, kneeling up next to him before bracing her hands on the windowsill and leaning out. Her hair is immediately caught up in the gust blowing past, looking like an ocean wave. Her face is cold but it’s exhilarating, like she’s leaning over the edge of the world and could tip over at any moment.

Bobby does the same, instantly screwing up his eyes as the rain starts to come down in sheets. It’s a real summer storm. 

“This isn’t as fun as it looks in the films!” Bobby has to yell even though they’re about a foot apart.

“It’s better!” She yells back.

They’re so close, Bobby can see the drops of water travelling down her face, along the line of her nose and dripping off as they get snatched by the wind.

“Come on!” She screams and before Bobby can even react she’s jumping to her feet and herding herself out the window.

It looks almost effortless. Granted, he does the same most mornings, but normally with a lot more hesitancy and groaning. She slides down some of the gutters of the house and landing onto the neighbouring shed before jumping down and into the street. Oh. Woah. Déjà vu. 

And just like that, he does the same, drawn in like he always is. He’s soaked to the bone when he reaches her in the street, his locs drenched and lips tasting like rainwater. His feet are instantly frozen, from the cold cement under his socks. His dick is trying it’s best to retreat back into his body behind his shorts, it’s so damn cold.

Bobby stands there, looking around them with his arms wrapped around himself and nose wrinkled.

“What, you afraid of a little rain?” Poppy turns to him, looking ecstatic.

He just shakes his head, trying to look pleased that they’re out in the middle of what feels like a wind tunnel. Poppy cracks up at him.

“Live a little!” She grins.

She raises her arms above her head, looking up into the storm, eyes closed. After a small moment of hesitation, he slowly opens up his arms, slowly letting himself get swept up too. It’s scary and he feels offbeat from his usual rhythm. 

But he trusts her.

And he thinks she trusts him too. Why else would she be here. He stares as she keeps her arms outstretched, smiling to herself as the rain continues to drench them. She’s at ease. Her eyelashes stick when she opens her eyes again, blinking and looking at the town around them.

It’s so different from home. But, it doesn’t feel like a strange place or anything like that. If anything, Bobby feels more at home right now than he has in a long time, letting himself get engulfed in the summer shower. This is nothing like the Scottish rain, nothing like the normal angry grey clouds that roll over Glasgow.

Caught up in his thoughts, his heart practically jumps out of his chest when Poppy stands by his side and takes ahold of his hand. Her fingers tangle with his, skidding together from the water. But her skin is on fire, obliterating any kind of coldness on him. 

She raises her arm, lifting up his as well, taking him to wherever she was moments ago. They’re in this moment together. So, Bobby closes his eyes, falling deep, deep down into this new thing he’s a part of. God knows how to describe it, but he’s content and terrified all at the same time.

He wouldn’t want to share this with anyone else.

The rain lets up soon after, going from torrential to a light drizzle within a minute. The sky lightens over the horizon, sun taking its place next to the clouds. They’re breathless and laughing when they open their eyes, immediately looking at each other. They look like they’ve gone through hell and back, but it doesn’t feel like it. Much more like cloud nine.

Poppy drops his hand and wipes at her face, shaking the excess water off her.

“I got your sweatshirt wet.” Poppy says, shoulders shaking from laughter.

“It’s fine.” Bobby waves it off, laughing as well.

They clamber their way back inside, giggling the entire time. Poppy howls with laughter when one of Bobby’s feet slip on his windowsill and he makes a very spectacular and clumsy entrance into his bedroom as he falls in. Poppy starts gathering her things as soon as she makes her way inside after him. 

“Oh, crap!” She says a little too loudly. Bobby shushes her with wide eyes and she covers her mouth.

“What?” He whispers.

“I forgot to tell you about the prank.” She makes a face, looking pained.

“The prank?” _Oh._ The prank. Whatever she was going on about last night.

“Yeah.” She quickly chucks on her coat and bag. “But, tomorrow we’re all meeting up.”

“We?”

“Yeah. The crew.” She turns to the window. She looks hesitant for a second and spins to face him again. “Chelsea and Noah are chill, right?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Cool.” She nods, frowning like she’s thinking. “And Priya?”

“Is Priya chill?”

“Yes.”

He’s silent for a moment.

“Yeah, yeah. She’s chill.” He nods. “Very.”

“Cool.” She perches on the windowsill. “Bring them to the arcade tomorrow. At eight o’clock. Make sure no one sees you.”

Before he can reply, she’s out of the window again. Bobby listens to the familiar bang and scrape of her tottering down to the ground. He watches from the window as she runs down the street, puddles getting obliterated in her path. Not for too long though, as a yawn overtakes him, sailing all throughout his body and making him stretch out his arms and back. Okay. He should really get some sleep.

After securing the window shut, his clock blinks awake as the power finally turns back on. Finally. He’s never been so happy to see the numbers flashing at him. But that can wait for later, he _really_ needs to get some sleep. 

Just as he is about to hop into bed, he spots the Diana Ross tape sitting on his night stand. He carefully picks it up, coming face to face with Diana again. Her intense gaze doesn’t match his exhausted one. He eyes his Walkman on the other side of the room and back to the tape. Maybe he has time for just one listen. One listen can't hurt. His chest does that weird squeezing thing again.

With closed eyes, he imagines the music to be bright lights and swirling colours, brain waves dancing in time to the soulful voice filtering into his ears. Every kick of the drum, tinkle of a piano key and buzz of a trumpet turns into a painting. 

He can see the sun. Marigolds and sunflowers. Canaries.

He falls asleep almost instantly.

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! ☔
> 
> this chapter isn't particularly progressive, but I always find it interesting writing the majority of chapters between two characters 👀🤘🏽 kind of like a bottle episode! stay tuned for more antics soon!!
> 
> and of course, thank you so much for reading ❤️


	10. Apéritifs

**

  
  


“Shit. We are _so_ late.”

"Where are we actually going?"

"I told you. The arcade."

"But - the arcade is closed?"

"I know." Noah says.

"It's all boarded up and abandoned -" Chelsea starts.

"I know, just - _I know._ Jesus. It's for something else, apparently."

"Something else?"

"Yes. Something else."

"Like?"

"I don't know." Noah huffs loudly, wrapping his jacket around him tighter. It was particularly cold tonight. And the water still lingering about on the roads and houses made the chill that much worse. "Bobby didn't give me any details. He just said to meet him there."

“He better have a good reason for dragging us out.” Chelsea murmurs as she steps in a puddle.

The storm has finally passed, the last remnants of it fizzled out this morning, gone with the wind. The sun was in the midst of it’s evening descent, it’s warm glow mixing in with the clouds and blue of the sky. Long shadows follow the pair as they walk, stretching and stretching until the sun says it’s goodbye. It’s nice finally being able to hear the crickets and distance barks of dogs instead of the rain cutting through the air.

They walk for a while longer, the streets becoming increasingly darker as they get further out of town, streetlights on the sparse. They make their way into the industrial estate, where it’s almost completely dark, walking through a chain-link fence that rattles in the wind. It’s a bit spooky. A lot spooky.

It’s still as run down and beat-up, like when Poppy dragged Bobby here the first time. They pass a skip full of old furniture, the retro patterns look sad, caked in dust and dirt and lost of all their vibrance. Noah tenses and lets out a shaky breath when he sees a rat scurry across the road and into the shadows of another abandoned building.

“This place is so creepy.” Noah whines, bringing his shoulders up to his ears as they continue to walk. “Maybe we should turn back.”

“What?” Chelsea screws her face up at him. “C’mon Noah, don’t be such a baby.”

They keep walking, the gravel crunching under the soles of their shoes fills the silence between them, conversation long gone by this point. Noah startles when the bush next to them rustles from the breeze.

“ _Jesus -_ fuck,” Noah grabs his chest before pulling his inhaler out to take a quick hit. “Shit.”

“Okay. Maybe this place is a little creepy.” Chelsea folds her arms in front of her, holding herself tight. 

As if on cue, the hoot of an owl travels through the air. Both of them scramble to keep walking, a little bit faster. As they get further away from the owl’s calls, a distant noise to them now, Noah takes hold of Chelsea’s hand.

“I don’t need you to _hold my hand._ ” She snatches it away from him.

“I know, but can you hold mine?”

Chelsea halts in her stride when they pass the skip they saw on their way in about 5 or so minutes ago.

“Wait.” She pouts and points at it. “We’ve passed that before.”

“Oh god. Are we lost?”

"We're not lost."

"Shit. We're lost."

“We’re not lost! Let’s just find our bearings.”

It’s pitch black, only the moonlight and the odd light on the side of an old building guiding them the way to the arcade. The wind whips past them one way and then the other, sending shivers crawling up and down their spines. Chelsea gets goosebumps and squeezes his hand harder, tugging him along in another direction. They stop dead when they hear a laugh, and then the sound of something smashing. Oh god, oh god.

“Oh. God. Shit.” Noah squeezes her hand even tighter.

“Sounds like people.”

There’s another laugh, sounding a little maniacal. And another smash.

“We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, _we’re gonna die._ ” Noah whispers to himself.

“Noah, calm down -”

“I _knew_ Bobby would be the death of me.”

“We’re not gonna die!”

“ _Hey guys!_ ” A voice calls out.

Chelsea jumps out of her skin as Noah lets out a startled scream, so deafening that it sends a chill straight through her. The hairs on Chelsea’s arm stand up right. Jesus almighty. The pair spin around to see Bobby and Priya hand-in-hand, looking extremely confused and wide eyed at Noah’s shriek.

“ _Fuck_.” Noah gasps, hands braced on his knees as he bends over to wheeze. Between the rattle of him shaking his inhaler and gulping breaths, no one is quite sure what to say.

“Are you okay, man?” Bobby finally comes out with.

Noah’s reponse is a garble of wheezes and deep breaths.

“He’s fine.” Chelsea says after a beat of silence.

“Are you sure?” Priya looks between them all, frowning hard.

More noises come from Noah that don’t resemble words.

“Uh-huh.” Chelsea nods, rubbing him on the back.

Noah finally gains some composure, standing up straight and letting out a big sigh of relief, with a hand on his chest. 

“Bobby -” He pats his chest, once, twice, when his voice goes all squeaky. “I swear if we’re out here for no good reason, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Think you already have.” Bobby deadpans.

Noah gives him the finger.

“We heard your panicking from over the road.” Priya laughs.

“I wasn’t panicking!”

“Noah, my ears are still ringing from your scream.” Chelsea giggles to herself.

Noah directs his middle finger to her this time.

Bobby laughs loud and sudden and gestures for them to follow. They’re closing in on the sound of that familiar laughter. As they round a street corner they’re greeted with the rest of the gang hanging out and around the outside of the arcade. 

Ibrahims got what looks like a gold club from this distance, in his grip. He’s spinning it expertly in his hand as he watches Gary line-up a few beer bottles on the ground. Marisol, Poppy and Lottie are sitting on a low brick wall behind them, watching on and passing a bottle between them and taking long swigs.

“C’mon Mr. Pro, let’s see that swing!” Lottie shouts and claps her hands together. 

Gary bolts out the way as Ibrahim steps up. He takes a deep breath, getting into position. The club reels back in the air before he swings it forward, fast as lightning, hitting straight through one of the bottles. It smashes loudly, scattering all in front of them. The group let out a bunch of whoops and cheers. Ibrahim looks on with a hand on his brow, body still twisted, making the others laugh even more.

Marisol lets out a happy squeal as Bobby and the others come into view.

“Ey!” She leaps off the wall and walks over to them all, giving Chelsea and Noah a quick squeeze, drink in her hand spilling a little. “You made it! Bobby said you’d guys would come.”

“Yeah… we, uh - what exactly did we come too?” Chelsea stares on with wide eyes as Rahim smashes another bottle again. 

“Just a little meeting.” Marisol nods, a wicked smile on her face.

“Meeting?” Noah tilts his head in question. “For?”

“Something special.” Lotties pops up beside them all.

“All will be explained.” Mars nods at them.

“C’mon.” Lottie takes both Chelsea and Noah’s hands in her own. “Let's get you guys a drink.”

“Oh - I’ll join!” Gary perks up, letting the bottle he’s lining up fall to the ground. He jogs over to the as they start to head inside, leaving the others outside. He catches Chelsea’s eye, giving her a small smile but she simply looks straight through him before turning away and following Lottie inside.

Silence falls over the rest of them, maybe they should follow? Ibrahim just shrugs to himself, leaning down to pick up the beer bottle and put it back in place. He shuffles in place again, squaring his shoulders. Priya leads Bobby over to the wall, plopping down beside Poppy. They watch on as Rahim takes a few practice shots, letting the club come close to the bottle before winding back again. He takes the shot on the fourth swing, expertly executed, his body twists around as it follows through.

“You want a drink?” Poppy murmurs, holding the bottle she's drinking from out to the couple.

“I don’t drink.” Priya says, staring at the bottle and then up to Poppy’s face.

“Oh.” Poppy’s face falls a little, pink dusting her cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t know -”

“It’s okay.” She waves it off with a smile, making Poppy’s guilt melt away instantly.

They’re silent again, except for the smash of Rahim hitting another bottle. The shards fan out in front of them, catching the light from a nearby streetlamp. It looks like small stars soaring through the air.

“Bobby?” Poppy speaks up, holding the bottle out again.

Bobby looks over to Priya quickly. She just nods and gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. _It’s fine_. He takes the bottle from her, hands grazing. Priya doesn’t notice. Bobby takes a small sip, grimacing as soon as it hits his tongue. It burns, oh - Jesus fucking Christ - it burns. Poppy bursts into laughter when he sputters a little, blinking back tears.

“Christ -” Bobby holds the bottle out. It’s got no labelling on it. “What the fuck is this?”

“Sambuca.” She grins over at him.

“It’s rank.”

“Does the job, though.” Poppy shrugs.

Bobby laughs quietly and shrugs as well. Fair enough. They watch as Rahim steps up to the mark again, adjusting his grip and making sure his stance is on point, shuffling his feet the correct distance apart.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Rahim, but - do you play golf?” Priya asks, moving everyone's attention over to him.

Ibrahim lets out a little sigh and turns to them, with a small smile on his face. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

“Wild guess.” 

“You guess correct. I do play golf. At home, mostly.” He says. “My parents are big on sports and if I’m not playing golf I’m training at the pool.” He relaxes a little bit as he keeps talking. “And then here in the summer.”

“Like, you play professionally?” Bobby asks, impressed.

“Kind of. Minor league stuff. A couple of county tournaments.” Rahim nods. “No biggie.”

“Oh, please!” Poppy sits up straight and points to him. “This guy wins major trophies. No biggie, my ass.” 

“It’s really not a big deal!” Rahim laughs, turning back to punt another bottle.

“You’re too humble, man.” She shakes her head.

“And _you’re_ distracting me.” Ibrahim teases back.

Poppy laughs, an idea immediately coming to mind. She covers her mouth, talking loudly into her palm like it’s a microphone.

“He’s stepping up to the green -- excellent posture, has always had such great poise, even at a young age!”

Rahim tries to stop himself from laughing, but his shoulders are shaking. Bobby laughs as well, looking over at her with a grin. He holds the bottle up to his mouth, fake microphone at the ready too.

“He was runner up in this competition last year, but given the roll he’s been on in the last hour or so, we have high hopes!” Bobby says, looking over to her.

“Oh, absolutely _have_ to agree with you there, Bob.” Poppy nods. “Hopefully, the downwind on this hole will play to his advantage.” 

“Yes, very difficult conditions today. A lot of players have been struggling with this hole today - especially on this green.”

“Just can’t seem to get that putt right, can they?” Poppy says.

Ibrahim bursts into hysterics, clutching his stomach. It’s the most animated Bobby has ever seen him. It’s nice. Priya is laughing along quietly as well.

“He was heralded as a superstar at the age of thirteen or fourteen. Would be great for him to regain the heights he once achieved today, Bob.” Poppy holds her other hand to her ear, like she has a receiver.

Ibrahim calms down soon enough, getting into position again, but he can’t suppress the grin plastered on his face. They’re all silent as he takes the shot, another bottle getting obliterated right in front of them.

“ _Oh!_ ” Bobby jumps up, still holding the bottle close to his lips. “Incredible shot! _Would you look at that!_ ”

“Shut up!” Ibrahim yells and spins to look at them, laughing even harder now. 

Poppy doubles back in laughter, almost falling off the wall. Without even thinking, Bobby shoots a hand out and grabs her leg to balance her, fingers digging into her thigh. Straight over Priya’s lap. She regains her balance immediately, not noticing Bobby’s hand on her, too engrossed in laughing still.

Oh, god. He really, really shouldn’t have done that. Bobby pulls his hand away, like he’s burnt himself or something. He meets Priya’s stare on him, just as fiery hot. Her expression is something he really can’t read but she’s definitely not happy. Before he can open his mouth, to utter that he’s sorry - has no idea what he’s doing - he’s interrupted.

“Yo, guys -” A voice calls.

It’s Rocco. He’s leaning out the doorway, watching them all with a joint between his fingers. He takes a quick drag before speaking again.

“Lottie wants to start.” He drawls. God, Rocco is so nonchalant, the rest of the smoke filters out his nose as he exhales deeply. Bobby can’t help but be a little bit jealous.

Poppy perks up significantly, jumping off the wall and over to the door. Ibrahim chucks the golf club to the floor, metal clanging against the concrete and follows suit. Bobby and Priya trail behind. 

He can’t stop himself from watching intensely as Rocco slings an arm around Poppy’s shoulders, pulling her close and passing the joint over to her. Their hips bumps as they walk together. Rocco leans in to say something into her ear as she takes a drag, making her laugh loudly and grin at him, eyes sparkling.

Oh, boy. 

  
  


**

  
  


Inside the arcade looks a lot different to what Bobby remembers. A lot cleaner. Everyone’s perched on old benches with cushions or on the vast amount of rugs scattered on the floor. Some big fairy lights are strung from the rafters from above, illuminating the room in a fuzzy yellow glow. Even some of the old machines are on. Bobby stares at the looping animation on the Tetris machine in the corner.

And most importantly, there’s a beat up old fridge in the corner, housing many, _many_ beers. A proper hangout spot.

“So.” Lottie stands from where she’s been perched on the floor, spreading her arms like she’s about to present. “We have many things to discuss tonight.”

It’s pretty impressive how everyone’s conversations fizzle out into complete silence. This must be pretty important.

“Maybe we should induct the Guppies first?” Hope raises her hand into the air, speaking anyway.

Noah physically tenses. Oh, bloody hell. If this is anything like Stirlathon, there will be a Noah-shaped hole in the wall adjacent. Chelsea pinches him on the leg, telling him to chill out.

“Ooh! Good idea!” Lotties clicks her fingers. “Forgot about the fresh faces.”

Lottie gestures vaguely towards the fridge. Henrik chucks her a beer and she cracks it open before raising it into the air. Everyone else does the same.

“Tonight, we discuss -- _the prank._ ”

The room bursts into applause, hands banging together and shoes stomping on the floor, making the floor rumble. Beer sloshes out of bottles and cans, splashing onto the floor. Bobby, Chelsea and Noah exchange a look, totally confused.

“Prank! Prank! _Prank!_ ” Rocco is chanting from the back of the group.

Lotties shushes the room and everyone falls silent again. It’s like they’re eating out of her palm.

“Every year we devise a prank - no matter how big or little it may be - we always do one.” She nods. “A tradition of some sort. They’re normally harmless. Stupid stuff really.”

No one can take their eyes off her, intently listening.

“But this year, we want to go big. And with all the new hands and brain power -” She gestures to the Guppies. “We are sure we can make it happen.”

Noah gulps.

“And this year, our target is the one and only - _Stirling._ ” She grins wide.

“Oooh!” The room’s giddiness is infectious.

“Stirling!” Hannah claps her hands together. “This is going to be insane.”

“We’ve never pranked Stirling.” Lucas pipes up.

“I know.” Lottie shrugs. “Which is why we need tonight to think of a plan. I expect everyone to be on their A-game.”

“You’re gonna get us killed.” Gary shakes his head at her.

“I know.” Lottie’s lips twist up into a devilish smirk. “But first, let's drink. Get those creative juices flowing.”

As everyone makes way for the alcohol, Bobby turns to Priya with a frown on his face.

“You do a prank every year?” He asks, raising his voice a bit to get through the noise of the others.

“Yeah.” She laughs and pats his knee. “Don’t worry yourself, it’s fun!”

“But - Stirling - won’t he like… punish us or something?”

“The thrill is half the fun.” Priya shoots him a smile. “Plus, there’s normally a big celebration afterwards.”

“Any excuse to drink.” Bobby smiles back.

“Read my mind.” Priya crowds close to him and lands a kiss on his cheek, making him flush. 

“Right!” Gary’s voice cuts through the noise of the room, booming. “Drinking game?”

The collective groan is more than enough to tell him what's up. The vote is not looking good for him.

“Aw, guys, c’mon!” Gary deflates a little.

“Why do we always have to play drinking games?” Ibrahim is fishing beers out the fridge, passing them back to eager hands. “Can’t we drink and talk like normal people?”

“And be civilised?” Gary scoffs. “Pfft, no. No way.”

“Gaz.” Poppy whines and slumps back in the love seat she’s occupied. “Just this once can we not play games?”

“Yeah, we’re not thirteen.” Rocco adds, plopping down next to her and making the sofa bounce a little. Gary crosses his arms, frowning hard.

“Gary might be. Mentally.” Hope snickers into her drink. Noah bursts out laughing but stops abruptly with a hand over his mouth when Gary shoots him a dirty look.

“Fuck me, you’re all boring this year. Never too old for a bit of fun.” He shakes his head. “Just one game?”

“No!” Lottie says.

“Please?” He whines. “Pleeease.”

“Gary -”

“Why not?”

“Because you always make it ridiculous.” Marisol adds.

“Just one game.” He pouts, batting his eyelashes at Lottie.

“ _No!_ ” Hannah and Hope say in unison.

“ _I beg!_ ” He puts his hands up in prayer. “ _Please._ ”

“Fuck, fine! Jesus!” Lottie walks past him and snatches the can from his hand for herself. “If it will get you to shut up.”

Gary pumps both of his fists in the air as everyone else groans again. Victory.

“One game.” Lottie states sternly and holds up a finger. “And then we get to work.”

  
  


**

  
  


Truth or Dare is a simple game really. Easy rules alongside many consequences. Even more so when you’ve been drinking. And perfectly for Gary, there isn’t really a way to determine when the game has to end. Everyone’s spread out into a misshapen circle around the space. Some more invested than the others.

“Truth.” Hope says after taking a huge gulp from her can. If she has to play this she’s gonna be drunk for it.

“Okay.” Henrik’s eyebrow knit together as he thinks. “If… you were offered one million pounds to never be able to have sex again, would you take it?”

“Yes!” Her reply is instant.

“What!?” Lottie’s eyes bug out of her head. “Are you for real?”

“Yeah.” Hope frowns, like it should be obvious what the answer should be. “One million pounds? That’ll make me happier than any amount of sex could.”

“You are not having good sex, then.” Chelsea looks sad for her.

“Imagine everything you could do with one million pounds!” Hope counters. “I must not be alone on this, surely.”

Hannah makes an affirming noise. “I see where you’re coming from.” The redhead frowns. “But, still. _Mate_. Never having sex again? That’s a huge commitment.”

“You know what else is a huge commitment? A house, a car, a garage to put my car _in_. Ugh, imagine if I had a pool. Maybe I’ll even get a butler. Or even better - a chef!” Hope moans and fans herself. “Every girl's dream.”

“Hope, you need to jump on some dick real quick.” Lottie says loudly. “I cannot be having that as your answer.”

“I’m afraid it is.” Hope beams at her.

“Despicable.” Lottie murmurs.

“Alright, alright -” Hope takes another chug of her drink and then tilts it towards Marisol. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Marisol nods.

Marisol is dared to flash the room. Considering that everyone here has seen each other already half-naked in their swimsuits, it’s not much of a surprise as she lifts her t-shirt over her head and raises her arms in the air, lacey bra on show for everyone to wolf-whistle at. It is a surprise however when they all get a good look at the purple mark sitting high on her left breast. It looks fresh.

“Marisol!” Poppy jumps up and points. “What is _that?_ ”

“What?” She looks a little flustered as she tugs her shirt back down.

“The -” Poppy points to her own chest where the mark was. “You have a massive hickey, dude.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” She grins at her.

“Mars.” Lucas pouts. “You can’t leave us hanging, there’s a story there!”

“Well, you’re just going to have to wait till my next turn to find out.” Marisol smugly folds her arms and winks at him.

“Tease.” He laughs.

“Alright, alright.” She rolls her eyes with a smile. “Truth or Dare, Lucas?”

“Truth.” 

“Who do you think is the cutest person in the room?” Marisol immediately follows up with.

“Oh, you -” He huffs, going bright red. “Evil, Mars, _evil._ ”

“What was that?” She leans closer to him, hand around her ear.

“Evil!”

Everyone laughs, watching on as Lucas struggles to keep his face from turning and even darker shade of red. Poor dude. Bobby’s attention is caught up when he hears Poppy’s giggle from the other corner of the room. She’s crowded up with Rocco on the sofa they’re sharing, passing back and forth the blunt from earlier. He sniggers at a comment she makes that Bobby can’t quite catch.

“C’mon Lucas.” Noah laughs. “No point being shy here.”

“Ugh.” He sets his drink down on the floor before he speaks quietly. “It’s Hannah.”

“What was that?” Marisol speaks loudly.

“ _Hannah!_ I think it’s Hannah! Jesus.” He throws his arms up.

Hannah's smile radiates pure joy. She twists a strand of her hair in her fingers, looking straight at him as they catch each other's gaze. Lucas has to duck his eyes back to the floor. 

“Right.” He breathes out, turning his attention to the room again. His eyes land where Bobby’s were moments ago. “Poppy!”

“Hm?” She sits up straight, looking over at him. She’s been so preoccupied with Rocco it looks like she’s forgotten they’re even playing.

“Truth or Dare?” He asks her.

Poppy taps her chin for a moment. Hm. Maybe it’s the weed in her but she’s really thinking about this.

“Dare!” She quips, happily.

Lucas nods and looks intensely around the group, mind bouncing between the many things he wants Poppy to do. His eyes go comically wide, accompanied with a blinding grin, when an idea comes to mind. He claps and rubs his hands together, extremely happy with himself.

"I dare you to _kiss_ the cutest person in the room." He says smugly, folding his arms.

Oooh. The group buzzes with excitement at that. Even Chelsea looks up for it. Bobby, however, feels like he's about to throw up. Or shit himself. Either end will suffice. Poppy grins, nodding at Lucas who has a similar expression on his face. Okay. Game on.

"Okay." Poppy nods. She straightens up and flicks her hair back, like she's getting ready for it.

Everyone watches as her eyes scan around the room, dotting to each and every person's face. It's a crucial decision, so she might as well have a good hard look. It's almost painful as Bobby makes eye contact with her. His chest is pierced with a feeling he can't put his finger on. 

Does she think he's cute? 

Poppy silently gets up and starts walking. Walking _straight_ towards Bobby. Gary is bouncing with anticipation, excited from the game escalating alone. Bobby freezes up, staring at her as she approaches, unable to look away from her face as she stares at his. 

Fuck. It's happening.

She's going to kiss him. And right in front of Priya.

He's so far gone in the moment, trapped watching her walk over that he doesn't realise Priya's grip on his hand is tightening until her nails start to dig in. It's piercing, laced with unimaginable anger. Poppy knows exactly what she's doing.

But Bobby doesn't know what to do. Christ, he doesn't even know how he feels anymore. There's part of him that wants to say no if she did try to kiss him, the part of him that adores being with Priya.

But ultimately, if she does, he doesn't know if he would be able to utter those words. Doesn't know if he would be able to stop himself from kissing her back.

Just as Poppy is about a foot away, her attention snaps over to Priya. She extends her arm to her and looks over to Bobby again.

"May I?" She asks. A challenge in her tone.

Wait.

What.

He looks up at her and then over to Priya, stunned.

"What?" He asks, lump in his throat making him croak.

"Think it's only fair that I ask first." Poppy gestures to Priya again, smiling straight at him.

She's asking for permission.

Bobby knows if he says no then… he's jealous. Or overprotective, or something. So he doesn't. He just nods dumbly, blinking up at her and forcing himself to chill out. It's just a game. Oh, she is wicked.

She leans down and gently laces Priyas other hand with her own. And, without a smidge of hesitation, Priya stands when Poppy lightly pulls on her arm.

He blinks once and then it happens. Poppy takes it deathly seriously, pulling Priya close so they're flush. She slowly drags her hands up the sides of Priyas cheeks until she's cradling her face, fingertips laced in her hair. 

Something happens to Priya in that moment, some kind of energy passes between them to settle them on the same page. Priya's mesmerised by what's happening, eyes wide and open staring straight into Poppy's focused ones. 

Their lips meet next, soft to the touch. Both their eyes drop down to a close, letting themselves get a little lost in it. They're kissing. Bobby can't believe what is happening, he's never felt so angry to the point where he knows that if he doesn't contain it something is going to go awfully wrong. It's a blinding white rage. He knows it’s a game but, fuck, they’re _really_ kissing.

Priya doesn't lean in like Poppy does and Bobby can read the hesitation flick over her face, but she doesn't back off either. Like she’s scared. Or something worse. Completely entranced by this gorgeous, older girl tilting her face up for a tantalising kiss.

He doesn't appreciate the yells and woops from the rest of the group, but he understands. Rocco and Henrik's continuous screeches of 'bro' and 'dude', followed by punching each other on the arms, as they look on at the girls is a sight to behold. Their monkey brains are really at work.

Poppy parts her lips, only to invite her own tongue in, next to Priya's. That's when the group gets a bit out of hand. Gary looks like he's about to explode, red in the face as he cheers them on. Priya's hands shake by her sides for a second, looking so desperate to hold onto Poppy's waist or something. Anything to ground herself.

Shit. 

Does she like it?

The prior of the two pulls away first, smiling when Priya's eyes flutter open to look at her. Completely stunned. She's red in the face and her eyes are a little dazed. Even her nipples are hard, poking through the fabric of her tank top. It's a picture copy of what Priya looks like after her and Bobby fool around on end.

Poppy leaves her hanging, strolling back to her spot and sitting down again. Marisol hands her a beer and leans in to whisper something into her ear, making them both giggle. Priya takes a moment to compose, but thankfully no one notices the flush on her cheeks, all too engrossed in talking to one another. Well, accept for Bobby.

Priya is silent as she sits back down next to him, their legs brushing together for a moment. It takes everything in Bobby to not comment on how hot her skin suddenly is against his own. 

The game goes on for a while longer. The stakes are raised higher and higher, as per usual with this lot. Pure teenage antics.

But, Bobby can’t focus, too distracted more than anything. He barely cracks a smile when Noah has to do his best at a lap dance, on top of Henrik. It's awkward and weird and just - not good. Noah looks stiff as a robot and it doesn’t help that his lanky form makes him look like a stick. The room is roaring with laughter, but all he can feel is Priya’s still burning hot skin pressed against his. Fuck.

Only when he hears his name being called does he arrive back from his spiralling thoughts.

“I dare you to give Bobby a foot massage.” Noah repeats, looking straight at Chelsea who’s in the middle of making retching sounds.

“No way!” She wails.

“Ah, c’mon Chels.” Lottie is cracking up laughing from the idea. “It’s only feet!”

“ _Exactly._ ” She grumbles. “I hate feet - _ugh,_ I’m not Stirling -”

“What?” Poppy laughs out loud.

“Stirling.” Chelsea sighs, looking towards Bobby and Noah. “We have a theory he has a foot fetish.”

Lottie and Marisol perk up significantly, scooching a little closer, all ears.

“Wait -” Ibrahim blinks, trying to collect his thoughts and chuckles. He looks over at them, confusion playing on his features. “You think Stirling has a foot fetish?

“We _know_.” Noah nods, certain.

“How do you know?” Hannah raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“He’s always making us do that wheelbarrow thing. For sandwork. Y’know -” Bobby points to his shoes. “Where you have to grab each other’s feet?”

“And he always tells that jelly fish story.” Chelsea nods along.

“Shit.” Rocco is wide eyed. Pretty impressive from how high he is right now. “He _does_ tell that story a lot.”

“That…” Lottie trails off. “That does explain a lot, to be honest.”

“And! Why do you think he _always_ has those sunglasses on?” Noah looks around the group.

“Can’t be caught slippin’” Lucas answers. Noah crows with delight, pointing to him and nods enthusiastically.

“Huh.” Poppy mumbles, kind of amazed.

“Wow.” Marisol looks deep in thought.

The group falls into a content silence, all united by this new and bizarre information. It’s not everyday when you figure your lifeguard coach has a foot fetish. Especially when he’s been in close proximity with you. Lottie takes the final swig of her drink and crushes the can in her hand, dumping it next to her.

“Guys.” She says. “I think I have an idea.”

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy friday!!! 🍻
> 
> hope everyone is doing well and staying safe out there! no particularly dirty stuff in this chapter but GO WASH YOUR HANDS!
> 
> as always, thank you so much for reading!! ❤️


	11. Phase One: The Game Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 🚫 viewer discretion advised! (not for wees)

**

  
  


“What does Stirling love more than anything!?” Lottie’s eyes are lit up like christmas lights, excited as ever.

“Does this mean Truth or Dare is over?” Gary’s shoulders slump. Lottie shushes him.

“Besides feet?” Hannah says and then turns to Bobby. “ _Supposedly._ ”

“He does like feet." Bobby defends. He’s certain of it.

“But do you _actually_ know?” Hope turns her attention towards Bobby too, eyeing him up. “Maybe he’s just, y’know - out there.” She gestures in the air. “We’ve always known he’s a bit weird. But not ‘feet’ weird.”

“Maybe we could try and prove it.” Noah perks up, idea hitting him like a rocket.

“Guys -” Lottie raises her voice. “Let's focus. I’m serious, what does Stirling love?”

“The sea?”

“Yelling.”

“His moustache.”

“ _Sunglasses!_ ”

“Weed!” Henrik shouts, enthusiastically.

“ _Yes!_ ” Lottie hollers, pointing towards him. “That’s it! That should be our target.”

“Target?” Lucas scoffs, pulling the beer he’s drinking away from his mouth. “Loz, I thought we were doing a prank not a heist.”

"We can still leave something funny behind." She offers.

“Oh boy. This sounds like it’s gonna be way more complicated than just dropping a fish in an air vent, like last time.” Hope groans and throws her head back.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t pussy out on me now.” Lottie says, trying to keep everyone on board. “You guys don’t wanna acquire some grass for ourselves? Think of the big picture. If Stirling gets to smoke everyday then I sure as fuck wanna smoke everyday. Bloke must have some reserves somewhere.”

“Awh, man. True. He _loooves_ to smoke.” Rocco says, finally contributing something. 

The others hush a little and Lottie spins around to look at him, surprised he’s even engaging in the conversation in the first place. Rocco’s just looking down in his lap where he’s fiddling with papers to roll. Even Poppy looks surprised.

“What?” Lottie shoots at him.

“Stirling.” Rocco speaks up more, still not looking away from his lap. “Man loves to burn. I smoke with him all the time.” He points to Henrik with his thumb. “As does pretty boy.”

Henrik nods and gives a thumbs up from where he’s leaning back on his arm on the floor, chilled back as ever.

“Why have you guys never mentioned this?” Marisol pushes her glasses up her nose when she frowns at them.

The boys simply shrug in unison. Ugh. Stoners.

“You kick back with Stirling?” Gary laughs a little too forcefully. “Isn’t that… weird? Dude’s like in his 30’s.”

Rocco looks up, eyeing Gary like he’s an idiot. 

“Age is just a number when it comes to pot.” Rocco says. “He’s got a good stash. He’s loaded.”

“How loaded?” Poppy turns her complete attention to him, shuffling closer on the couch.

“Majorly.” Henrik interjects. “He’s got a couple of connections around the island. And mainland Spain. It’s pretty dope.”

“And the _dope_ is dope.” Rocco grins to himself.

Bobby's eyes go wide for a split second, instantly landing over to Poppy who's looking back at him, just as surprised. That joint they stole a while back _was_ pretty dope.

“God knows why he’s a lifeguard. He’s got a pretty sweet gig with just dealing.” Henrik looks a lot more interested now. “Sells to all the kids on vacation.”

"Shit, really?" Lucas sits up.

"Dude makes major bank." Rocco confirms, nodding at the group.

“And…” Lottie trails off, racking her brain. “You guys have just been sitting on this info for -” She gestures outwards with her hands. “How long, exactly?”

Henrik looks over to Rocco, squinting at each other as they try to think. Must be hard for their thoughts to travel through all that pot in their system. Noah looks like he’s about to fall asleep the longer they stay quiet.

“About -” Rocco pauses. “A year or so?”

“ _A year!?_ ” Lottie squawks.

“What?” He scowls at her. “No one asked! Why do you care about what we do with Stirling?”

“Holy shit.” Lottie laughs like she can’t believe it.

“What?”

“You guys are the _perfect_ in!” Lottie stands up now, even more excited.

“We’re the perfect what now?” Rocco’s face falls.

“The perfect in.” She repeats the words with a grimace of exasperation. “You’re the link to Stirling for the prank!” Her eyes go even wider. “It’s fucking perfect.”

“What?” Gary asks out loud. “Hold on - I’m lost.”

“Just -” Lottie scrubs a hand down her face. “Amuse me for a second.”

Everyone straps in as she stalks over to Henrik and Rocco, facing the rest of the group. She steeples her fingers, jet black nails tapping against each other as she thinks. 

“If these guys always hang out with Stirling.” She points to them both. “ _And smoke,_ then we have immediate access to his stash.”

The energy in the room begins to buzz as everyone begins to land on the same page. Shit. She’s right. Poppy looks so happy, the white of her teeth is overtaking her face.

“I assume you hangout at his place?” Lottie looks over at Rocco. “Not in your mum’s basement?”

Rocco fakes a laugh and flips her off.

“Loz, I could kiss you.” Poppy stares at her with hearts in her eyes.

“You couldn’t handle it.” The blonde winks and purses her lips at her. Poppy grins even wider. “Think of the money we could make if we started dealing it out to all the summerbirds ourselves.”

“We’ve got a couple of hook ups we could talk to.” Henrik looks over to Lottie. “As long as we have product we probably won’t come face to face with whoever is buying.” He shrugs. Rocco gives the nod of approval.

“Christ, you sound like a drug lord.” Hannah cracks up.

“ _Mister_ drug lord, to you.”

“Woah, wait. So.” Ibrahim claps his hands, eyebrows knitted together. “Let me lay this all out on the table. You want us -” He waves his hands. “To instigate, basically, a heist to steal weed from our lifeguard coach? And sell ourselves to the tourists?”

“Yup.” Lottie has never looked so smug.

For once, Hope looks pretty damn impressed. Or it's just the mention of money. Either way she looks happy.

“I’m in.” Hope raises her hand in the air.

“Me too!” Chelsea grins, doing the same.

“Me three.” As does Gary and Marisol.

A few of the others raise their hands too, smiles on their faces. The room is relatively quiet again, until Chelsea glares over at Noah and pinches his side, making him squeal and put his hand in the air too. Lottie’s eyes totter around the room until they land on Bobby, the only one without a raised hand.

“Aw, Orion.” She sulks. “C’mon. It’ll be fun.”

“Won’t it be, like, dangerous?”

When his mother asked if he wanted to vacation in Spain at her boyfriend's beach house earlier this year, he really did not think he’d end up potentially stealing drugs. There’s not much correlation between those two things. The world works in mysterious ways. 

“That’s half the fun.”

He can feel all the eyes in the room landing on him, one by one. Bobby’s not used to this sort of attention, normally just going with the flow with what his friends do. But, this feels so out of pocket he has no idea how to respond. He’s not so much _out_ of his comfort, more like he’s been catapulted into a completely new kind of zone. The ‘what the fuck is happening’ zone.

“You can always sit this one out.” Priya tries, looking over at him.

Lottie’s face is a seal of disapproval and she’s not trying to hide it either. It’s not like he needs to impress Lottie or anything but, shit, she’s so damn scary sometimes. If she were to part her dark lips right now there would probably be fangs. He looks around at everyone else in the room, trying to read their faces too. It’s mostly confusion and a tiny bit of annoyance, as if to say _c’mon man._

When his gaze lands over on Poppy she looks almost… sad. That cocky smile is still there but she’s pleading with him almost.

“C’mon, Bobby.” She sighs, beginning to grin. “Live a little.”

She repeats those words that she used on him a little while ago, sparking up the memory of when they stood in the rain together. He’s terrified and exhilarated all over again. There goes that familiar warm feeling in his chest.

“Fine.” Bobby finally cracks a small smile, putting his hand into the air. “I’m in.”

  
  


**

  
  


It’s just gone midnight by the time everyone filters out the old arcade, ready to leave. It’s still a little cold out, completely pitch black still. But even in the velvet of the night sky, it is littered with the speckles of stars, white and bright. The air smells like smoke from late night bonfires and barbeques. 

Bobby can barely feel the cold, wrapped up in a beer blanket and head swimming a little from the alcohol. He feels good. And there is no harm in feeling good. He very sorely needed a drink after being roped into whatever elaborate scheme Lottie seems to have laid out. And after that Truth or Dare game. Christ. The anger he felt hours ago has simmered down now, but still, what the fuck.

From that moment on Priya was so weirdly affectionate. Not outwardly, just, little touches here and there. It was like torture, a really nice type of torture, but still torture. Her skin was so hot compared to his, everytime she squeezed his knee or stroked his arm it felt like a burn. It was so hard to concentrate when Lottie started hashing out the logistics.

“It’s simple really!” Lottie had said, after chugging another beer herself as she started drawing out the plans.

The prank is split up into three Phases, unknowing to them that they’re already in Phase One - completely dedicated to planning. Phase Two consists of the prank itself. Henrik and Rocco keep Stirling distracted whilst they infiltrate the house and steal the goods. A team will be on look-out whilst the others remain on standby for the delivery. 

Everyone will split off with their own piece of the stash, keeping it hidden until the initial blow up of Stirling finding out it’s been taken cools down. It’s not like he can go to the police or anything. Finally, when the heat dies down, we enter into Phase Three. A celebration for their efforts of course.

But he doesn’t want to think about that right now. He’s out with his friends, laughing and joking and enjoying the summer night. Bobby watches with a smile as the girls huddle together in a group ahead of the others, giggling and hollering as they all start to walk home. It falters a little when Poppy walks side by side with Priya, bumping shoulders.

“You’re telling me that... if you had a sugar daddy, you’d rather go to Vancouver than Bora Bora?” Chelsea frowns, pulling a beer bottle away from her lips.

“If I’m going to be seen in public with an old man, who is lucky enough to be with me by the way, I want him to be nice and covered up.” Hope answers.

“Dude.” Poppy shakes her head. “Bora Bora. He’d probably fall asleep in the sun or something. You could go galavant and live life.”

“And leave him to roast in the sun? I don’t want any deaths on my conscience.” Hope says.

“You don’t think he can die in the freezing cold?” Lottie has to grab the cigarette out from between her lips, certain she’s going to choke from how hard she’s giggling.

“I just don’t want to be around a leathery old man, alright.”

"Shit, if we pull this thing off you might not have to." Poppy adds. “What do you think?” She turns to look at Priya.

“Bora Bora for sure.” She answers almost immediately, making the girls burst out into laughter.

Eventually everyone begins to part their separate ways. Chelsea splits off from the group first, with Hannah and Lucas. Then Hope and Ibrahim turn down a different street as they approach town.

Soon enough it’s just Noah and Poppy, in a heated discussion over what they’d do with endless amounts of money, with Bobby and Priya trailing behind.

Priya’s hand is burning in his, he can’t really concentrate. But that may just be the beer in his system, he’s not entirely sure. When they arrive at Bobby’s road, he halts in his stride making everyone else stop too.

“I can walk you home, if you want?” He turns to Priya. Her house isn’t too far from his, but he’s not too fond of the idea of doubling back on himself.

“Oh.” She bites her lip, looking down his street and then back to his eyes. She’s fidgeting in place, not really sure what to say. “I don’t really wanna go home.”

“What?” Bobby frowns at her. “Well, where are you gonna go?”

He hears Poppy snigger before she turns to muffle it in Noah’s shoulder. Noah looks just as confused as Bobby until Poppy stands on her tip-toes to whisper into his ear. Noah’s face lights up and he bursts out laughing too.

Priya doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head to the side and looks down Bobby’s street again. He doesn’t really get the message until she squeezes his hand. _Oooh._ Right. Gotcha.

God, he’s so slow sometimes.

So he just nods enthusiastically, giving her hand a squeeze back. When they turn to leave Bobby catches Poppy giving him a double thumbs up and Noah… oh, lord. Noah makes some grotesque gesture with his hands and then tongue. Poppy has to slap a hand over her mouth to stop her laugh. 

By the time they reach Bobby’s house he is a clammy, nervous mess. But, Priya is smiling and cuddling up to him, the most at ease he’s seen her in a while.

Fuck it. 

It’s a right of passage to sneak a girl into your house during the wee hours of the morning. They tip-toe up the wooden steps and across the porch to the front door, holding their breath the entire time. Priya has to stifle her giggle, pushing her face into Bobby’s shoulder when he tenses as the porch light comes on automatically.

He ushers them inside quickly, closing the door so slowly he’s not even sure if it locks on the latch. The house is silent, but he wasn’t expecting anything else at 1 in the morning. It’s only when he kneels down to untie his shoelaces when he realises how drunk he actually is. Priya snorts again, holding him steady as he kicks his sneakers off. They shuffle up in stairs in relative silence, maybe taking a little bit longer from all the wobbling.

The sound of his bedroom door closing may be the best thing to happen to him all day. Well, for the next 7 seconds. He turns to see Priya stripping off her jacket and shirt. The breath he takes gets caught in his throat. Okay, he really wasn’t expecting that. She wiggles out of her shorts before surging towards him and pulling him down for a kiss. 

It’s a little clumsy and messy but fuck, she’s kissing him like she’ll die without it. It’s not the normal sweet and light Priya kiss he’s become so accustomed to, this is something else, a lot dirtier.

A lot like the kiss she shared with Poppy earlier tonight.

She presses her whole body against him, pushing him up against the door as their lips crash together. Bobby can’t even catch his breath, groaning as she cradles his face and dips her tongue into his mouth. He can’t tell if he’s ridiculously drunk or what, but he’s practically melting from her touch, trying his best not to moan too loud into her mouth. Only when she sucks and bites down on his bottom lip does he fail miserably. 

Oh god, and to top it all off she shoves her leg between his thighs, rolling her hips into his. She groans into his mouth when he starts rocking his hips into hers, hands skimming down to her hips and setting a nice little rhythm. She’s even hotter between her legs, sparking all sorts of thoughts in Bobby’s brain and making him blush under her hands. The thought of pussy alone turns him into a blushing, horny mess. This is sending him on the path to an absolute meltdown.

He can’t get over this kiss, so turned on it’s making his blood boil. Their lips are sliding together like nothing, sending both of their pulses racing. He winces when she drags her hands down to his shoulders, digging in her nails and scratching down his back as she tries to pull him closer. She wants more, more, _more._

Priya must be reading his mind, pulling him away from the door without breaking the kiss and shoving his denim jacket off for him. Bobby keeps walking them through his room, blindly and drunkenly stumbling in the dark, lit up only by the moonlight through the window. They only part from each other when she fiddles with the hem of his shirt again, helping him pull it over his head.

“Take off your shorts.” She murmurs. And he does. Very quickly.

He watches as she cautiously lays down on his bed, keeping her eyes on him the whole time. All Bobby can think about is how out of place she looks, not in a bad way though. She’s just so elegant and angelic, among the mess of his unmade bed. Her hair is splayed out all over his pillows, tan, glowing skin contrasting with the dull grey of his duvet cover.

“Is this -” She pants, sounding flustered. “Is this okay?”

All of that sensual, mysterious (and drunk) energy is thrown out the room when Bobby can’t find his voice, responding with a squeak as his voice breaks trying to reply.

Damn it.

Priya’s lips stretch into a thin line, trying her best not to giggle at him, but when they lock eyes she chokes on her laugh. There’s a beat of silence before they both crack up even harder, covering their mouths, trying their best to be quiet but it’s too funny. Ah, thank god. This was all getting too serious, too quick. He sits up on the bed, ducking down to give her knee a quick peck.

“I’m so nervous.” He breathes out, giving her a shy smile.

“Me too.” She says, staring down at herself, like she can’t really believe she’s spreading her legs out for him. “Have you - uh, have you ever -”

“No.” Bobby rushes out, face rapidly turning red.

“Me neither.” She says. “I mean - I have. To you -” She stutters, slapping herself on the forehead lightly. “I haven’t had anyone… do it to me.”

“Oh.” Bobby nods, eyes flicking down her body and up to her face again. She’s just as red in the face as he is, making him feel a little more at ease. “Do you… wanna try?”

Priya can’t hide her smile, cheeks burning even hotter. That’s okay, Bobby doesn’t need her to say anything. He just grins back, crawling up the bed to capture her mouth in a kiss. Back to their innocent and sweet kisses he loves so much. But, he doesn’t want to waste their time together, he wants to make her feel good like she does him.

He shifts down to kiss at her jaw first, soft and calculated, like he’s really thinking about where to go. Then works his way down her neck and collarbone, kisses as light as air itself. Priya just watches as he hesitates, sighing when he tentatively skims his fingers over her dark nipples through the lace of her bra and down her stomach.

Okay. He takes a deep breath. Eating pussy. _I can do this._

Except it’s not fine because he has no idea what the hell he’s doing. His brain is flipping through the Rolodex of his life and… no, eating out girls does not seem to be coming up in any results. Tension is tight in his body, panic beginning to set in as he continues to kiss at her stomach and unable to actually the make the move down. Maybe he really should’ve accepted Chelsea and Noah trying to give him sex advice that one time. Chelsea would know, she’s good at these things. Well, and the fact that she also has a vagina. Maybe Noah can show him on one of those porn tapes he keeps hidden in his room.

The nerves seem to be cemented now, rigid in his muscle and seeping into bone, determine to not be shaken off. Bobby can feel his pulse leap and dip, a tide in his chest with a ship ready to capsize at any given moment. 

So, he goes with what he knows - semi-knows - and trails feather kisses up to her neck again, finding her pulse under his tongue is just as erratic as his own. That seems to calm him down a touch, knowing she's just as vulnerable as he is, both in the deep end with no idea how to get to shore. 

The weirdness of everything seems to step up a notch though, with Priya's skin under his lips suddenly slick and... metallic tasting.

“Bobby?” Priya’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Good thing too because it’s probably for the best that he doesn’t think about his mates when trying to go down on a girl for the first time.

There's a rustle of sheets as Priya reaches over, flicking on the lamp sat on the bedside table. Light floods the room, blinding and way too bright for this time of night. As soon as she gets a good look at his face, she gasps so loud he’s pretty sure it travels through the whole house. He frowns, gaze sinking down and _Jesus Christ -_

“Your nose is bleeding!” Priya points, trying to keep her voice down. “Oh my _god_ -”

“ _What?_ ” Bobby sits up, touching his lips and under his nose, getting blood all over his fingers. Oh, shit. 

He scrambles to get up, panic full-blown now as his nose runs rapidly, dripping down to his chin and onto the sheets and basically everywhere. Not to mention all over Priya's chest and stomach. Holy Jesus, fuck, shit. It's like something out of a terrible slasher flick. He's holding his hands up, not knowing what the hell to do, legs working on their own as he tries to get himself up and off the bed. Fuck. _Fuck._ Absolute perfect timing.

He’s so flustered he loses his balance and goes _straight_ over the side, ass over tit, landing on the floor with a loud _thud_.

Priya freezes in place, mouth wide open in shock.

That definitely woke the house up.

“Oh god.” She mumbles.

Her face comes into his view when she peers over the side, looking down at him on the floor. She’s baring her teeth, cringing at the sight of him.

“Are you okay?” She whispers.

“... No.” Bobby groans.

  
  
  


**

  
  


The next morning is an absolute bloody scorcher, as Stirling would so often say. Bring on training.

The group is scattered about the sand during their lunch break, basking and soaking up the sun alongside trying to build up their energy for the rest of the day. Poppy is sitting in a tight-knit circle with some of the others, cackling over whatever they were talking about last night.

“I don’t know.” Marisol looks puzzled, scratching her chin. “I couldn’t murder an old man for his money.”

“We’re not actually asking you to do this.” Lottie can’t help but laugh at her. “Though I’m sure we would totally help you bury the body.”

“I think I could do it.” Gary nods, sure of himself.

“Really?” Ibrahim laughs, turning to look at him. “Killing that spider in the arcade last night was not your greatest work.”

“Okay, _funny guy_.” Gary glares at him. “But there weren’t millions of pounds on the line for that.”

“Who said they were a millionaire?” Poppy questions.

“Surely they would need to be a millionaire to achieve Sugar Daddy status?” Marisol says, arching an eyebrow. “Why else would I be doing this?”

“Dunno. Reckon I could do it for a few grand.” Lottie shrugs.

“You’re insane.” Marisol shakes her head.

“Babe, thank you!” Lottie leans over, planting a big fat kiss on her cheek, leaving a black lipstick mark.

Chelsea and Noah have teamed up for Volleyball against Rocco and Henrik, and they are surprisingly crushing it. 

The ball sounds a loud _thwack_ across the beach as Noah serves, setting it up for Chelsea to expertly jump up and spike it into the sand, just by Henrik’s foot. Noah cheers her on, waving his arms in the air before high-fiving.

Bobby’s lounging around with Priya, leaning back in the sand with his arms outstretched behind him and taking in the rays. Priya's lying on her back, eyes closed. 

They had a particularly interesting morning, to say the least. If interesting means having your mother burst into your room to see you groaning on the floor with a huge nosebleed and hard-on with a panicked, half-naked girl in your bed, then, yeah. Pretty interesting. There was some yelling and then very concerned yelling and then back to regular yelling.

Bobby walked Priya home in the early hours of the morning when things finally calmed down. The embarrassment didn’t set in until he kissed her goodbye and watched her walk up the path to her house, his nose plugged with tissues. He is never eating pussy again.

He barely remembers climbing back into bed when he got home, exhausted and completely sobered up. Sleep reeled him in as soon as his head hit that pillow, still smelling of Priya’s shampoo. By the time he woke up, his alarm was blaring loud already, numbers on the screen blinking 6:47am, at him.

 _Fuck!_ And now he’s missed surfing. Poppy didn’t so much as look in his direction when he rocked up to training late. Ah, man.

Everything is going so well.

But, all he wants to do now is lie on the sand and relax. Maybe if he’s in the sun long enough his brain will boil and he’ll forget everything from the last 12 hours or so. 

Bobby’s squinting as he stares down at the surf, sand getting hotter and hotter around him. The sun glints off the ocean as it moves in tandem with the current and breeze. Foam laps up against the shore, sizzling as it breaks away from the water and hits the wet sand. Rocks scattered and lining the beach are pelted with water as the tide comes in, standing strong. He buries his toes in the sand, thinking of what it’d be like to get in it right now. 

Sure, being a lifeguard requires you to get in the sea all the time, and he already has been multiple times today. But, that felt like work. Well, it _is_ work at this point. In order to get into that mentality, Bobby always felt like he had to work against the water instead of with it. It is tiring, even to think about. 

He craves the ocean's embrace of when he was a child. Soothing and soft and gentle, allowing him to float freely and guide him wherever he wanted. He can’t seem to let go of that feeling.

Priya rolls over onto her stomach, resting her head in her hands as she looks over at him with a content smile. Bobby always loves seeing her out in the sun like this, bare and exposed to so many different elements. He especially adores how the sun always seems to lighten her mood, like she has no care in the world, completely comfortable in her surroundings.

They haven’t uttered a word about what happened last night to each other. And it’s probably for the best. Something to bury deep, deep down in their memories.

He stares into her eyes, once brown but now a glowing amber in the light. He could never pinpoint the exact colour of her hair, sometimes it was dark and other days he could see a red-ish tint. It was mysterious, but he kinda liked that about her. 

“S’nice out today.” She murmurs, voice quiet.

“Perfect.” He replies, smiling as well. 

She pushes up on her hands, leaning over for a quick kiss. It’s chaste but sweet, both of their lips dried out and starting to crack from the salt water. Doesn’t stop his heart from doing a flip, though. She kisses him again, just for good measure and shuffles back again to give him a grin.

God! This is so nice. He feels so good, even more so now that the group is starting to gel even more. Turns out the others aren’t as entirely intimidating as they can make themselves out to be. Sure, entering an already close knit group is hard, and sure it was easier for Bobby having Chelsea and Noah by his sides. But, now it just felt like they’re an actual _unit,_ y’know. They have each other's backs.

Priya rests back down on the sand, propping her head on her arm and closing her eyes. She gently draws lines on Bobby’s forearm with her fingers, watching his skin indent. The soothing drag of her nails against his arm is so rhythmic and soft, he’s sure she’s trying to lull him to sleep.

Hannah and Lucas’ conversation next to them is all but a blur of noise. He thinks that Lucas has just given her a compliment, but he really can’t tell. Bobby’s too occupied in being how relaxed he is at this moment in time. For once. This entire time he’s been on vacation and only _now_ is he getting a moment's peace. 

That doesn’t last long though.

“Why… _hello!_ If it isn’t Magaluf's favourite waste of resources.” Chimes a sweet voice, lathered in the weirdest venomous intonation that Bobby has ever heard.

Before Bobby even turns to pick out where that voice came from, he watches Lottie spin around so fast that her wet hair whips Poppy in the face. The latter makes a loud _ack_ sound as it hits her, making Marisol practically hoot with laughter. 

“ _Blake._ ” Lottie grits her teeth.

“Hey, princess.” This supposed Blake says, smiling down at her.

 _Blake._ Bobby knows that name and when he shuffles around, he’s greeted with a familiar face. That girl at Lottie’s party Priya pointed out, giving Lucas the big ol’ _fuck me_ eyes. Oh, boy. 

“Thought I told you to leave us alone when I chucked you out of my gaff?” Lottie eyes her, suspiciously.

“I distinctly remember you telling me to fuck off.” Blake frowns, looking at her nails.

“Oh, right.” Lottie nods, grinning. “Yes, I do remember that very well.”

“Is it the ‘fuck’ or the ‘off’ you’re having trouble understanding?” Poppy says, making some of the others snicker. Jesus. Straight into hostile territory.

“Always the saint, Poppy.” Blake says, voice tight, not even glancing over at her.

“Think it’s both.” Marisol answers for her.

“What do you want?” Lottie’s tone is pointed. She lifts a hand to her brow, protecting her eyes from the sun as she looks up.

“Nothing really. Just thought I’d give you the heads up, is all.” The brunette fakes a pout, looking sad. She turns on her heel to walk away but can’t resist from making one more comment. “No stupid shit this year, alright?”

Bobby didn’t know it was possible, but Lottie somehow rolls her eyes so hard up into her skull, not even gracing Blake with an answer as she walks away. Gary makes a snorting pig noise, earning himself a middle finger from her. 

“Who was that?” Noah frowns, volleyball under his arm. Chelsea trails behind with the boys, also looking a little confused.

“Ugh.” Lottie throws her head back, clearly annoyed. “Blake. Neighbourhood watch.”

“Neighbourhood _what?_ ” Chelsea exclaims.

“We may have a problem.” Lottie sighs, looking towards the group.

Before she can open her mouth again, the sound of Stirlings prized whistle pierces through the air, catching all of their attention. Everyone scrambles up from the sand, dusting themselves and jogging over to the lifeguard tower. Bobby doesn’t catch the whole exchange, but from the look on Poppy’s face there is a _big_ problem.

  
  


**

  
  


Bobby’s exhausted by the end of the day, in dire need of a sugar rush. The Slushie Spot beckons him. Chelsea yells with joy when he mentions the idea of grabbing a slush at the end of the day. And, to his surprise, a few others from the group are up for it too.

They all sat up against the shop, on the pavement, watching the world go by. They stare with tired eyes as tourists begin to exit the beach in their hoards, loud and a little chaotic, as the sun says it’s goodbyes for the day. Cars roll up next to the strip, getting loaded into before screeching away. The pier is busy too, people getting their last minute meals and cheap trinkets before the stalls close.

“John Cleese?” Ibrahim tries.

A chorus of _ew_ chimes from the girls. Even Gary looks disapproving, like he’s trying to make his mind up. 

“He’s _old_ old.” Chelsea says, her obnoxious slurping noises stopping for the first time in a few minutes. “Too old for me.”

“But, he’s got the classic old man look.” Noah says. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Nah. Not really.” Lottie sighs. “Older dudes can be hot. Just, not John Cleese.”

Everyone goes silent again, basking in their ideas. A seagull swoops down to a bin a few feet away from them, attacking an abandoned ice cream cone sitting on the ground.

“George Clooney!” Poppy exclaims.

Marisol and Hope let out a resounding “Yes!” at the exact same time.

“He’s not old enough though is he?” Bobby looks over at them.

“Nah.” Poppy murmurs. “But he’s _hot._ Catch me in Bora Bora with him any day.”

“I think they should be old.” Ibrahim states.

“Rahim. Shush.” Hope juts out her bottom lip in a sad pout. “Let us live out our fantasies.”

Marisol nods in agreement. They’re all quiet again for a few more seconds. Bobby squints his eyes, looking up at the sky. He watches those wispy clouds that Poppy likes so much fly by. He risks a glance over at her to see she’s staring at them too, a small smirk on her face.

“Harrison Ford?” Priya adds, quietly.

Everyone pipes up then, excited yeses all around. The loudest coming from Gary.

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, seems I have lots of time to write now 😇 stay safe out there guys!! 
> 
> and thanks so much for reading!!! tell me what ya think ❤️


	12. Phase Two: Programa De Vigilancia De Vecindario - Part 1

**

  
  


“I’m serious this time, Chels -”

“Yeah, yeah, I know - Christ! I said I’ll do it -”

“You’ve said that for, like, the past few weeks!”

“And I’ve meant it everytime.”

“Chels. Please. I wanna learn how to do a backflip.” Noah whines. “Do you not remember me hitting you in the face?”

Chelsea chokes on the slushie she’s still drinking, half-melted ice burning her throat. “I don’t think anyone forgets their first encounter with the literal _flipper_ you call a foot.” She says, coughing still.

“ _Hey!_ ”

“You’d be right up Stirling’s street with those puppies.” Chelsea starts laughing to herself.

Noah hits her on the arm and she smacks him back. Naturally, it escalates like it always does until they’re practically wrestling right in the middle of the road. The fluorescent blue slushie Chelsea’s holding splatters all over the pavement and both their shoes. Noah puts her in a headlock as she flails about before sinking her teeth into his arm. Noah yells and releases her, running down the street as Chelsea starts sprinting away and cackling.

Bobby watches on with a smile, shoulders shaking with laughter as he walks behind them. As does Priya, eyebrows pinching together in confusion, but amused nonetheless. The Chelsea and Noah show is nothing less than entertaining, but down right concerning at times. Well, most of the time.

“Do they always fight?” Priya chuckles, watching the others grow smaller and smaller as they run down the street.

“Yeah.” Bobby says.

“And yet they get on so well.” She shakes her head.

“Like a house on fire.”

They stop in their steps, just by Bobby’s street, that same exact spot they halted at the other night. Bobby’s face grows hot at the memory alone. Their goodbye is quick but sweet, Bobby desperate to fall asleep as soon as possible and Priya full of leftover embarrassment, just from the very idea of walking back to his house. He kisses her once and then twice, murmuring one last goodbye against each other's lips.

His goodbye to Chelsea and Noah is a lot less civil, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting at them, hoping his voice travels far enough. They’re two dots on the horizon now. It’s a lost cause.

The house is quiet when he makes his way inside. He toes off his trainers and dumps his bag, sighing as his bare feet rest of the cold wooden floor, speckled in the sand he’s brought back from the beach. It’s a little dark inside, but the natural light filtering in through the windows. He can just about see the little patches of pink burnt skin on his cheeks in the mirror hanging in the foyer. He takes a step closer, his whole face in the reflection filling his vision completely. 

Bobby’s never had a problem with his freckles... it’s just every time he’s exposed to the sun, even a little bit, they always go a bit haywire. They don’t even look like freckles anymore, just giant patches of dark brown littering his face. No more stars, more like a messy galactic cluster.

His mind is rocked with the image of Poppy sitting on the floor, long ago at that first house party Lottie invited him to, when she gently traced over his face with her fingertips. Reaching out to the markings all over his cheeks and forehead, so delicate but firm, like she really wanted to touch them. 

He pads down the hallway to the kitchen, sighing happily from the silence, just the echoes of his footsteps to bother him. He really wants a snack. And his bed. Hungry, he roots around the fridge for a minute, um-ing and ah-ing at whatever scraps have been left behind. There’s not much you can do with condiments, a few lemons and out of date eggs. Nothing edible, at least.

Maybe just going straight to bed is the best option. Just need to get this ocean stink off first. So, he takes a shower, just hot enough to melt the tired pain in his muscles down to a dull ache. He figures he should take advantage of the free house as much as he can, standing under the spray for so long his sister would normally be banging on the door by now, telling him to hurry the fuck up. 

He stares down at the shower floor, hair soaked and sticking to his forehead. Water drips off the ends of his locs, falling to his feet and getting swept up with the rest of the spray. Sighing, he sweeps his hair out of his eyes, only for it to fall back over his face.

 _I should ask Priya what shampoo she uses,_ he thinks. The smell of strawberries would be a little bit of a godsent right now. Always seems to have a little bit of a calming effect.

By the time he’s made it to his room, the day sky has met the night, orange turning to pink to navy blue. He roots around his shelves, looking for the perfect tape to pass out to. It’s not like he can’t fall asleep without music, just more like, why wouldn’t you want to? A few of the cassettes fall to the floor. When he reaches down he comes face to face with that Diana Ross tape Poppy gave him days ago.

He stares at it, eye flicking all over the case, taking in all the details of how weathered and old it looks compared to his own. He grabs it and stacks it back on the shelf, pushing it back with the stuff he doesn’t normally listen to. 

Bobby dozes to the sound of Phil Collins’ voice, guitar and drums softly working away behind it. But he can’t help himself from thinking about the sweet, glorious vocals of Diana Ross, wondering if Poppy falls asleep to music too. Maybe. Though she’d probably go for something less dramatic and more -

“ _Jesus._ ” He rushes out, grabbing at his headphones and tossing them to the side. They knock against his alarm clock and fall to the floor, dragging his walkman along with them.

Okay, he needs to have this out. Whatever this stupid mess of emotions and whatever the fuck all these thoughts are. He can’t be thinking about a girl when involved with someone else, it’s just not right. He should tell someone.

Before he can think about throwing any more belongings on the floor, there’s a light knocking at the door. Bobby sits up against his wall as the door opens, his mother’s concerned face appearing from behind.

“Heeey, sweetheart,” She says, a small smile on her face. She steps into the room hesitantly. Bobby can’t blame her, last time they spoke he was rolling in agony on the floor with Priya on the bed scrambling to pull the covers over herself. “I didn’t realise you were home.” She attempts at small talk.

“My bag and shoes are by the door.” He says.

“Right. Yes.” She nods. She walks over to his bed, perching herself on the edge and gently placing her hand on his leg under the covers. “I just wanted to see if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” He replies, maybe a bit too quickly.

His mother just nods, looking around his room for a second. Her face falls as she glances at the floor before bending down to pick up his walkman. 

“Bobby, you need to look after your things.” She places it on the bed.

“I know -”

“Your sister just broke her camera.”

“She broke her camera?”

“Yeah. You know that little film thing she’s always running around with. We can’t always afford to shell out for stuff like this.”

Bobby frowns. God, he really wants to make a snide comment right now.

“But, Terry can afford a holiday house in Spain, right?” Apparently the comment is out of his mouth before he’s even thought about it. He holds his breath, watching her face fall even more. It’s not disapproving, but she doesn’t look entirely happy.

“ _Bobby_ -”

“Sorry. Just -” He sighs. “I’ll be more careful.”

“Good.”

Silence settles in the room again, it’s awkward and so obvious that his mother is building up to ask him something else. She opens her mouth and closes it again, quietly humming in thought.

“So.” She starts, looking over at him. Her voice is laced with a little caution. “About the other night -”

“ _Mum._ ” He groans, burying his face in his hands. _God_ no. Anything but this.

“No, no!” Her hands flail a little. “It’s nothing like that, it’s - I just wanted to say that she seemed really nice. Bar, the situation, she was a little sweetheart.”

“Oh.” Bobby lets out a deep breath, heart slowing down to a normal rate. Okay, this isn’t too bad. “Yeah, thanks... Priya’s great.”

“Bless her.” She grins and shakes her head. “Not the best way to meet your boyfriend’s mother, is it?” She starts laughing to herself.

_Boyfriend._

Good lord, is he someone's boyfriend now? His heart rate soars right back up again. They haven’t even had that conversation yet. Bobby isn’t even sure if they’re _dating._ Fuck, he’s not even sure what dating is, he’s that much of a virgin to relationships. Don’t think one drunken dry-humping session, a blowjob and attempted cunnilingus counts as dating.

“Yeah...” Bobby nods, completely lost for words and trailing off. “Wasn’t what I envisioned.”

“Well,” She breaks out in a grin. “I’m just happy that you’ve met someone who makes you happy.” 

Bobby blushes as she leans over to peck him quickly on the forehead, patting him on the leg. She stands up from the bed, lingering by his dresser as she rearranges a few things. Just before she exits the room she turns in the doorway and speaks again.

“I think your sister would like her.” She nods. “She could come over for dinner or something!”

“Uh -”

“Not soon, it’s just a thought.” She tilts her head and smiles. “But would love to see her again. Priya, was it?”

“Yeah, Priya.” He nods.

“Such a gorgeous name.” She sighs.

She leaves the room before Bobby can reply again, stopping the conversation dead. Bobby looks at his door, listening intently as his mum pads down the corridor and down the stairs. Everything is quiet again, leaving him and his thoughts alone. He looks over at the shelving at the end of his room and if he squints hard enough he can see the Diana Ross tapes staring right back at him.

 _Ugh._ He slides down against the wall and back into bed, groaning into his hands.

Fuck.

  
  


**

  
  


Squinting, Poppy eyes Bobby cautiously as he makes his way over to the lifeguard tower the next morning, bright and early. There’s no training on weekends as the beaches are always rammed, but he figures maybe surfing will set his mind straight. The beach is barren, as is the sky, just the two of them to accompany it.

Ash drops down to the sand as she stubs her cigarette out into the wood next to her. Bobby watches as it floats down, grey on top of white. He stops dead just below where she’s sitting on the decking, legs dangling between the slats of the railing. 

“Hey.” He says, looking up at her. 

“Hey.” She replies and blinks at him. Her voice is a little hollow. They’re silent for a moment before she talks again. “Wasn’t expecting you today.”

He wasn’t expecting to see her either.

“Oh?” He frowns.

“It’s our day off.”

“I know.”

“And you didn’t come yesterday.”

“Sorry.” He sighs. “I had a bit of a weird night.”

“Yeah?” She grins. “Not too weird I hope. Priya was smiling all day yesterday.”

Bobby chokes on air, face rapidly beginning to burn. Poppy laughs quietly to herself, looking off into the distance. Of course there’s no way for anyone to know what actually happened but, still. The idea of that information getting out makes him want to crawl into a very deep, dark hole. He ducks his focus away from her, turning and walking up to the top of the tower.

“You’re normally in the water by now.” He muses, not sure what else to say.

“I’m smoking.”

“Not anymore.” He nods to her empty hands resting on the deck.

She looks down at them, like she doesn’t realise she actually isn’t smoking. Her fingers flex on the grain, nails scratching against it and lifting up miniscule splinters. Bobby doesn’t notice, attention snapping up as birds fly overhead. She’s already looking at him when he turns back to her, a little frown on her face. He watches a flash of … _something_ appear in her eyes before her face splits into that huge blinding grin of hers. It looks a little too forced.

“C’mon! Let’s surf, then.” She says, jumping up, re-energised suddenly.

They’re out on the water in no time, both in a familiar routine by now. Poppy’s always chasing after the waves for speed and Bobby more so for stability. He’s not entirely confident, but he’s better than he used to be.

Surfing is a lot different to what he thought it was going to be. Not like he had any expectations for it anyway, considering he blubbered his way through agreeing to it when Poppy offered to teach him. There’s something about it that’s so freeing. When he’s up there on the board his mind is blank, in a way that he can think with no words. 

Just existing in the bright Spanish sun, working in tandem with the ocean beneath his feet is sweet bliss. And to do so alongside a friend makes his heart jump in his chest. Maybe a bit too much.

But today Bobby struggles, falling off his board and shoving it too forcefully ahead of him when the sets come in too big and paddling hard when the water softens up. He continues to break through the waves, determined to get back out there. When Poppy isn’t chasing after the thrill herself, she shouts encouragement to him through cupped hands.

Over his shoulder he can see a wave approaching, just the right size for him to attempt at. He paddles for his life, feeling the wave start to take control behind him. He slows his breathing, trying to focus on everything that Poppy’s taught him in the past few weeks. He can hear her voice listing off instructions as if she’s on the board with him.

_Hands on deck. Make sure your thumbs face in towards the bottom of your ribs. Push hard. Swing your leading foot forward through your arms so the other follows. And stand!_

Immediately after trying to push himself up, he loses his balance and goes flying off the board, hitting the water hard. When he resurfaces, he can see Poppy out in the distance and sitting on her board, cringing but trying to look encouraging as she gives him a thumbs up.

Bobby gives up soon after, retreating to where the water is calm and flat, chilling out for a while. He straddles his board, legs dangling in the water as he watches Poppy try to catch one of the biggest waves of the morning. Soon enough, Poppy is riding the wave, carving the water up effortlessly.

He watches, trying to savour the fresh, salty air, flexing his toes in the cool water. The sun spots reflecting off the sea are luminous, dancing with the rhythm of the waves. Everything about today is perfect, but he can’t seem to relax. Everything is perfect but him. He’s not even been in the water for an hour before he huffs dramatically and starts making his way to the shoreline, done with surfing for the day.

Bobby collapses on the sand, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Damn, he forgets how much of a workout surfing is sometimes. There’s a sweet, deep soreness working its way through all the muscles in his body. Being active always feels great until you actually sit down again. He watches Poppy in the distance, realising he’s not in the water any more. He waves his arm in the air.

“ _Still here!_ ” He shouts.

She exits the water soon after, following his footprints up the beach. He rests his arms on his propped up knees, squinting from the bright sun as she walks over. His dreads flop down in his face, soaked and dripping all over him. He flips them back and he lets out an annoyed noise as they fall back in front of his eyes. He scowls when it happens again.

“You alright?” Poppy asks, just as out of breath, dragging her board along the sand.

“Yeah, just -” He exhales deeply. “Tired.”

She hums and tosses her board on the ground, sand flying into the air. She plops down next to him, lying on her back and throwing an arm over her eyes to block out the sun. God knows why she wore a bikini today - but she did. Nothing extravagant, just a little black top and some boy-like swim trunks for bottoms. 

He knows he’s kinda with Priya but, christ, he still is a 16 year old boy. He glances over, very sparingly, eyes on her body for just a second. Poppy is just miles and miles of soft, exposed brown skin. Sunkissed and glistening from the water droplets scattered all over her. Bobby dares not a second look. 

And good thing too. She sighs and turns to face him, rolling on her side and propping her head up with her hand. But now it’s even worse, her tits pressing together and threatening to spill out over her top. God, it’s like a fucking trap for eyes.

“You want me to retwist ‘em?” She speaks softly, her voice just registering over white noise of the ocean.

“Huh?” He frowns at her, meeting her eyes. 

“Your dreads.” She’s up on her knees before he can say anything. “I can re-do them.”

“Oh. Really?” He wasn’t expecting that out of her mouth, smile tugging at the side of his lips.

“Yeah!” She grins and moves towards his head before stopping herself, forcing her hands by her sides. “Wait. Can I touch your hair?”

“Uh -” He wavers for a second. “Sure.”

“Would you believe that I’ve braided Rahim’s hair before?” She speaks quietly, gentle moving some of the locs to the side, looking at his scalp.

“Damn, what?” Bobby laughs. 

“Many-a-time.”

“Huh.” He murmurs. “Full of surprises you are.”

“More than you can handle.” She laughs, jumping up. “C’mon, gotta make you look fresh.”

Bobby blinks up at her, squinting at the bright halo around her silhouette. The sky is brilliant bright blue today, not one cloud to ruin it. It’s burning his eyes a little.

“What? Now?”

“Yes. Now.” She leans down to grab her board before walking off to the lifeguard tower.

“But, we just sat down.” He throws his head back, whining up at the sky. Every fibre in his body begs him to stay sat. Tired is an understatement.

“And now we’re walking.” She calls behind her.

He slots his board into the sand next to hers. She’s already pulled up a deck chair and a bunch of kickboards for him to sit on, by the time he trudges up the ramp. She’s practically beaming as she sits in the chair. She’s even got a bar of surf wax in her hand, clearly raring to go.

“Park yo’ self.” She gestures to the makeshift chair in front of her balancing on the floor. “Welcome to my shop.”

“Surf wax?” He eyes the bar in her hand before sitting down, facing away from her. “Seriously?”

“It does the job.”

“A good job, I hope.”

Bobby straightens up, moving his neck side to side to loosen up. But, as soon as she schooches her chair closer he is as rigid as a board. Her legs are pressing right up against his back, either side of his shoulders, burning hot. The combination of her fingers starting to toy with his hair really doesn't help.

“Damn, dude, you got a lot of growth.” She frowns.

“Don’t judge my lazy twisting habits!”

“I am and I will.”

They sit in content silence for a little while, Poppy concentrating on separating his hair into sections and Bobby trying his best to not focus on the soft and gentle movement of her fingers. He’s normally so forceful with his own hair. Black hair is not his friend, coarse and dense and sometimes just a huge pain to deal with. 

But, Poppy is the complete opposite. He can barely feel the pinch of his hair as she tugs and pulls, all her movement premeditated so she doesn’t put him in any kind of pain. It’s... nice. 

He’s had it in dreads for a long as he can remember. Honestly, if his mum allowed him to, he'd probably grow them out super long, due to pure laziness. It wasn’t one of his best traits, but at least he’s aware.

“So -” He pauses as she gently tilts his head, moving some dreads out the way to start a new section. “How’d you learn to dread?”

“Oh, uh - you have the same hair type as my dad.” She muses, warming some wax up in her hands. “I annoyed him to death, always asking to do his hair. And, finally one day he taught me.”

“No way.” He grins to himself. “My dad taught me too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s jamaican. Mum’s scottish, so -” He doesn’t know why he tells her that, but he does. He sighs. “I was of course blessed with these genes.” He gestures to his head. “And the lifetime curse of forever twisting.”

He feels her stop her hands for a second, like she’s thinking, and then starts back up again.

“You _are_ blessed, though.” She stresses, frowning a little. “Black hair is beautiful. _Your_ hair is beautiful.”

Oh. He didn’t expect her to say that at all. It’s a simple statement but Bobby's chest squeezes tight. No one’s ever described him as beautiful.

“I guess.”

Poppy goes quiet, concentrating on separating the growth and carefully applying the wax before she twists it neatly.

“If it really bugs you that much… you could just, y’know, shave your head.” She jokes.

“Maybe. Sounds like work.”

“More work than forever cursed with twisting?” She laughs.

“ _Guys!_ ” They’re interrupted by a shouting voice coming from below.

Bobby jumps and Poppy laughs at him before leaning over the railing, grinning to see who it is.

“Loz!” She calls.

The tower shakes a little, Lottie running at full pelt up the wooden ramp, out of breath when she reaches the top. Bobby frowns a little when she comes into view, not looking like her normal self. Not like she needs to. Even though they’re jumping into the sea almost everyday, Lottie has never skipped out on adding a bit of glamour to herself.

“Are you okay?” Poppy asks the question that Bobby wouldn’t ever dare to. He is silently thankful.

That signature razor sharp eyeliner is nowhere to be seen, alongside those perfectly arched eyebrows she normally draws on. Her eyelashes are practically white, Bobby can’t stop staring. Her make-up free face makes her green eyes pop even more against her pale skin. He never thought about Lottie having blonde hair, which sounds really stupid, but she’s always hiding it. Even half of the hair on her head is plastered with a vibrant pink.

“Yeah, I -” Lottie takes a deep breath, dumping her bag on the ground. “I pulled an all nighter.” She looks between them both, confused. “Are you doing Bobby’s hair?” 

“Why?” Poppy frowns.

“I’m just curious -”

“No, I mean, why did you pull an all nighter?” Poppy shuffles back on her chair, the heat of her legs no longer pressing up against Bobby’s back. Phew.

"Long story. I saw Kassam and -"

"Ooh! _Kassam_." Poppy's voice tingles, excited. She starts making kissing noises. "Oh Kassam, oooh, tell me more about your synths -"

Lottie throws a towel sitting on the railing at her. Bobby ducks as it hits Poppy square in the face.

“Who’s Kassam?” Bobby asks.

“Lottie’s inside man.” Poppy murmurs, chucking the towel on the floor.

“Listen!” Lotties sighs and crosses her arms. “This whole prank, heist, whatever - Blake is out to royaly fuck us and I’m not gonna lose out on a huge score to some pumped up plastic, daddy’s girl. San Fermín starts in a month and they’ve still got patrol officers looking for that missing dude, all over the island. They’re encouraging more activity from that Neighbourhood Watch bullshit.”

“Ah, fuck.” Poppy sighs, shaking her head.

Bobby blinks. “Neighbourhood Watch?” He looks between the girls, confused.

“ _Programa de vigilancia de vecindario!_ ” Poppy straightens up, dramatically rolling her r’s. “Bunch of hyped up vacationers who volunteer over the summer. Think they’re basically the fuzz. Blake joins them.”

“She’s the daughter of Magaluf’s Police chief.” Lottie rolls her eyes. “Which somehow, in her eyes, allows her to be a massive nark.”

“Pigs.” Poppy frowns.

“They’re posted all around the island, on patrol at night. Kassam had a party shut down last weekend because of them. Blake is practically wet from the idea of catching us doing something stupid this year.” Lottie grumbles, twisting her hair in her hands, anxiously.

“They’ve never caught us before, though.”

“I know, I just… we need to be more prepared, make sure we’re always one step ahead. And it needs to happen sooner rather than later. Tonight.”

“ _Tonight?_ ” Poppy goes bug-eyed. “Do the others -”

“They already know. Trust me, it was a _long_ night.” She frowns. “As long as we have everything we need, we should be ready to go.” 

“So… what do we need?” Bobby frowns.

“We need to get some equipment. And I need a favour." Lottie says, glancing up at Poppy. "Like, a _favour._ "

“A favour.” Poppy repeats.

“A favour.” The blonde nods, looking Poppy dead in the eyes. She’s not blinking.

“Oh.” Poppy pauses. “ _Oh._ Oh. No! No. No _way_ -”

“Awh, Poppy, c’mon!” Lottie throws her hands in the air. “You did it the last time.”

“Because you wouldn’t stop going on about needing a new stereo system for the house party and -” Poppy huffs, rolling her eyes, knowing she’s not going to win. “We agreed only once!”

“Yeah, but, now I’m asking you to do it once _more_.”

“No.”

“Poppy -”

“ _No!_ ” She says. “I said no.”

“Please.” Lotties screws her eyes closed, clasping her hands together and shakes them. “I beg.”

“Loz -”

“ _Please._ ”

“I said _no._ Forget it. It’s not happening.”

  
  


**

  
  


“So, what’s happening?” Bobby asks, not even an hour later.

The three of them are standing in the middle of a busy Sunday highstreet, blending in with the crowds passing by from each direction. God, Bobby hates going into town on the weekends. Too many tourists and too many locals trying to swindle them all out of their money. Lottie’s looking intently at an electronics store opposite them.

“My demise.” Poppy grumbles, looking over at Lottie.

“Oh, shush.” Lotties pokes her gently before turning to Bobby. “One of the guys in that electronic store really has a thing for this one.” She points to Poppy. “We get free things outta him.”

Bobby laughs, shocked, turning to Poppy as well.

“You little thief.” He says, grinning at her.

“It’s not stealing!”

“No. Just deceit, scam, cheating. All the good stuff.” He smiles. Lottie laughs, high pitched and unexpected.

“You see that dude with the dark hair?” Lottie subtly points to the window of the store. Bobby can faintly see the dark haired guy walking about, looking a little bored. “That’s Carl.”

“Carl?” Bobby questions.

“Carl’s our man. Poor sod, he’s head over heels. Would give the shop away if it were possible.”

Christ. Poor sod, indeed. Bobby knows first hand.

“What am I getting this time?” Poppy sighs.

“Walkie talkies, if they have any. And whatever else he throws in.” Lottie winks. “And I need you to go with her.” She gently hits Bobby on the chest and gestures to the shopfront.

“Me?” He blinks.

“Yeah. Just make sure she’s alright y’know. Don’t have to act like you know each other. It’ll be fine.”

“But, we do know each other.” Poppy says, giggling.

“You know what I mean!” Lottie bites. “Bobby, just have a little browse. And when she’s done working the Carl charm you can leave. No biggie.” She shrugs.

Poppy simply rolls her eyes before marching off. Bobby goes to follow but Lottie throws a hand out, blocking him and holding him back. Poppy’s about a meter away from the door when Lottie calls out to her.

“Assets!” She shouts. “Use them!”

Poppy stops in her stride just for a second, grabbing the sides of her shorts and jumping up, wiggling them further up her hips, until half her bum cheeks are on display. Lord. Lottie laughs and Bobby stares at the ground. Poppy doesn’t look back, making her way to the door and going inside.

“Here.” Lottie says, holding a pair of sunglasses out for him.

“Where’d you get these?”

“Does it matter? Let’s go!” She pokes him on the waist, laughing when he yelps. 

Bobby makes his way over to the shop, sunglasses fitted. He doesn’t really come into the centre of town all that often, so maybe he can have a proper browse. A small bell chimes as he pushes the door open and makes his way inside. 

Most of the shops along this strip are proper tourist traps, stuffed with overpriced souvenirs, bathing suits and toys for the beach. But, not this place. It’s dull and grey, with new and old electronics lining the shelving on the walls. Even the carpet is depressing, once was a vibrant array of swirling patterns and shapes, now a faded and trodden on mess.

He glances sideways, trying not to be too obvious as he looks at Poppy standing in front of Carl at the till. She’s leaning over the counter, looking completely nonchalant. Poppy’s playing him with every trick she knows. She’s laughing at his jokes - even when they aren’t jokes - flipping her hair behind her naked shoulders and smiling at him sweetly. If Bobby were anyone else he’d figure she was just flirting, but _no_ , this was work.

Unfortunately for Carl, he is completely punching above his weight here. Not even punching, just miserably attempting to try and land one. As far as stereotypes go, he slots into geek quite perfectly. Not that Bobby often judges people by their appearance, it’s just that the giant frame glasses, braces and midst of spots on Carl’s face aren’t really helping him out.

Trying his best to not completely eavesdrop on their conversation, Bobby turns his attention to some of the products on the shelves. There’s a lot of tape decks, VHS players and camcorders. This place is like a gold mine for any middle-aged man who wants to entirely reconstruct his home entertainment system to soothe the ache of his current mid-life crisis. Huh. Maybe Bobby should tell Terry about this place.

Bobby peers over as Carl starts talking excitedly about an old IBM computer someone brought to trade in the other week. Poppy just smiles weakly and nods, as if she knows what the hell he is talking about. Her smile fades a little when he starts going into detail about how it shaped the computing industry years ago and he remembers having one when he was only 11 years old. Only when does he start listing off model numbers does her smile completely go. Bobby really wants to laugh but, fuck, he can’t.

He walks over to the back of the shop, just as Poppy loudly exclaims “Haha! Oh, Carl you’re _so funny._ ” He picks up one of the gameboys and places it back on the counter, frowning. His interest is heightened when he turns to see a bunch of cameras lined up in a display case. They’re not the flimsy plastic things either. 

There’s some SLR’s towards the back of the case, similar to the one his sister uses. Or used to use. An immaculate looking Nikon sits in the back corner, it’s even got a lens and bag to go with it, sitting adjacent. Carl lets out a loud surprised laugh, making him whip around. Poppy’s shoulders are shaking too.

Finally her voice simmers down to a whisper, probably asking the all important question. Bobby just stands there, staring at this camera, pretending he has no idea what they’re talking about. He hears a door open and close and turns to see Poppy standing alone at the counter. She quickly looks over her shoulder at him, giving him a big grin and thumbs up.

Soon enough, Carl’s back with a crate of walkie talkies, grinning like a loon when Poppy smiles back. She says her goodbyes, resting her hand on Carl’s over the counter. He looks like he’s about to melt when she pulls away and carries the crate out the door, giving him a small flirty smile over her shoulder. 

Bobby waits about 20 seconds before walking over to the till himself, pushing his sungless up and watching Carl ogle over her as she walks down the street. He stands there for 9 awfully long and awkward seconds until he lets out a small cough, startling Carl. 

“Oh - god.” Carl stutters, whipping around to look at him. He pushes his glasses up his nose a little, flushed with sudden embarrassment. “So sorry, uh -” He sighs, glancing one more time out of the window. “How can I help?”

“No worries, man.” Bobby nods, watching Carl go red as a beetroot. He turns and points to the back of the shop. “How much is that Nikon camera, in the case?”

“Oh.” Carl pouts, looking thoughtful. He makes his way over to the display, key jingling in his hand as he unlocks it and takes the camera out. He checks it over a few times before turning to Bobby. “It’s second hand, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Awesome -”

“Seven Hundred euros.” Carl nods, firmly.

“Seven _Hundred?_ ” 

“Yeah, sorry man. This thing’s pretty vintage. It’s Japanese actually, one of the most successful commercial cameras to come out of this decade -”

“ _Okay_.” Bobby rushes out. He really doesn’t need him to go on like he did with Poppy. “Cool. Thanks. Uh -” He looks to the door. “I gotta head. But, thanks.”

He’s out the door before Carl can put the camera back in the display. He swiftly walks over to Poppy and Lottie further down the street. Lottie is kneeling on the pavement, rummaging through the crate of fresh gadgets, delight all over her face.

“That must be illegal.” Bobby says as he approaches them. “That man did not have a chance with you.”

Poppy just shakes her head, smirking. “He’s a sucker for thinking with the wrong head.” She lifts her eyebrows as she cups her boobs.

Bobby laughs. Yep, total sucker.

“What were you talking to Carl about?” She probes.

“Huh?”

“You were talking to him when I left?”

“Oh, it -” Bobby shrugs it off. “I saw a camera that my sister might like, but it’s too expensive.”

“Ah.” Poppy nods.

“Ten walkie talkies!” Lottie crows, looking up from the box. “Fuck, this is more than enough. You’re amazing.”

Poppy shoots her a half-assed smile at her before murmuring something that neither of them quite catch and stepping aside.

“What?” Lottie says.

“This is the _last_ time.” Poppy says sternly, putting her hands on her hips. 

“Yes, yes. The last time.”

“Promise?” Poppy holds out her pinky finger.

“ _Promise._ ” Lottie grips it with her own and shakes their hands, grinning. “Blake’s gonna have no idea what’s hit ‘em.”

“Well, that’s kinda the point, isn’t it?” Bobby says. 

Poppy looks at him with wide eyes, before doubling over with laughter. Bobby’s never been on the receiving end of one of Lottie’s death glares. But, it’s so frightening that he’s pretty sure his soul is snatched right from his body purely from her eyes. She hauls the crate up, walking down the street ahead of them. Bobby and Poppy trail behind, the latter trying her best to stop giggling. Bobby can’t help but crack a smile, too.

“You guys better be ready for tonight.” Lottie says, not looking behind her.

“Born ready!” Poppy pipes up, slinging an arm around Bobby’s shoulders.

Ah, God. Here we go.

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY Y'ALL ☀️
> 
> funny story, so i started writing litg stuff back in september when i was having a massive art block lmao. i've recently started trying to draw again and figured it'd be fun to draw some ~ love island ~ stuff, so i made a twitter!! follow me @l0singface if u wanna talk to me (i'd love to cry about bobby w/ you all) or u can see my doodles!!
> 
> we are so close to the heist stuff oooohh my gosh, i can't wait! 
> 
> hope you are all staying safe 💞
> 
> thank you very much for reading! 😩😇😌🤘🏽


	13. Phase Two: Programa De Vigilancia De Vecindario - Part 2

**

  
  


**Poppy**

_18:37_

This morning was weird, to say the least. 

All Poppy wanted was a moment of tranquility. Just her, the ocean and her board. She certainly wasn’t expecting to see Bobby this morning. Or even Lottie for that matter. And she certainly wasn’t expecting to be scamming Carl out of pocket, but nothing was ever predictable these days.

She marches up the steps to her bungalow, staring over the horizon the higher she climbs. The hills are filled with bright white buildings, surrounded by terracotta and luscious flowers and plants. The palm trees sway in the breeze, brushing against each other, imitating the sounds of the ocean. The air is thick with the sweet smell of cut grass.

Poppy always felt grateful to be situated in one of the nicer areas of the island. Where her mother wasn’t able to be physically around often, due to her resort business, she made up for with glamorous estate and its surroundings. 

It isn’t crazy extravagant, just a little more than comfortable for one person. It’s right on top of a hill, alongside some larger homes. They’re in close proximity, but it never felt like they were on top of each other, just more cosy. Poppy often smiles to herself when she smokes out on the balcony in the evenings, listening to her elderly neighbours, Juan and Maya, bicker over something silly in rapid-fire spanish.

It was a nice, tight knit community in this area. Poppy helped where she could. When Juan became too old to do DIY work around the house, Poppy would often step in and offer a hand. It was always little things, like climbing up to clear the gutters of leaves or fix a broken hinge on one of the window shutters. They were always grateful, not that Poppy could understand them very well. But, she always accepted the ice-cold drinks and copious amounts of food Maya prepped with a smile.

There are some very rare days where she misses having her mother in the house. It feels like only yesterday when she was a child, lying in bed and watching the world outside turn from light to dark. She’d lie there for hours, just waiting and waiting and _waiting_ for her mum to come home from work. And when she did it was the best feeling, like every single good thing in her life was distilled into the moment she ran from her room and up into her mother's arms. 

Funny how the fondest of memories can turn into something you completely despise.

Poppy closes the front door quietly and walks further inside, straight to her bedroom. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror above her vanity, leaning in close to look at the bags beginning to appear under her eyes. Her hands still smell of surf wax, embedded into her fingertips and under her nails. She twists her own hair in her fingers for a moment, tilting her head and watching the locks spiral around her fingers. Much different to Bobby’s.

She dashes out to the hallway, punching numbers into the phone, not even needing to look. It’s deeply ingrained now. She bites her lip as it starts ringing in her ear. _Please pick up. Please pick up._ They do after the fifth ring.

“Ayo.” They cough, clearing their throat. “It's Rocco.”

“Hey. It’s me.”

“Oh. Hey.” He pauses. She can hear him shuffling about in the background, like he’s sitting up. “You alright?”

Poppy sighs, watching herself twirl the phone cord in her fingers. Her heart is beating so fast and she doesn’t know why. 

“No. Not really.”

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby**

_18:46_

After Lottie established there wasn’t much else for them to do but to wait for tonight, he decided to go home. He still can’t really wrap his head around the idea of stealing. From their _coach_ of all people too. And watching Poppy work her charm for free things earlier really didn’t help. The moral compass was all over the place today.

He’s lying in bed, trying his best to rest and not think about whatever he’s been roped into for tonight. There’s a light knock at his door just as The Police takes over from Billy Idol playing through his headphones. Emily walks in, eyes immediately landing on him all wrapped up.

“Are you napping?” She asks, amused.

“I _was_ napping.” Bobby mumbles, not opening his eyes.

“Your girlfriend’s at the door.” She says.

Uh. What. Bobby’s eyes snap open, heart dropping down to his stomach.

“ _What_ -”

“Priya?” She tilts her head and starts laughing as Bobby shoots up and out of bed. “She’s at the door.”

 _Jesus._ Of all the days to turn up unannounced.

“You might want to hurry -” Emily turns and walks out the door. “She’s talking to mum!”

He does hurry. So much so that he puts his t-shirt on backwards - twice - before fixing it and making his way downstairs. Priya’s standing by the front door, laughing sweetly at something his mum’s just uttered. He pauses on the last few steps as they both look over at him.

“Ah - there he is!” His mother chimes with the biggest grin on her face that he has ever seen.

“Hey,” He says hesitantly, smiling a little. He steps over to Priya, kissing her quick on the cheek. “I thought I was coming to you?”

“I know.” Priya laughs, blushing a little. “But, I thought I’d come to you instead.”

“Oh.” He nods, not entirely sure what to say next.

“I invited Priya to have dinner with us before you go out tonight.” His mother offers, to fill the silence.

Bobby tenses just the slightest. Oh - _Jesus Christ._ Of all the days! _Of all the days._

“I hope that’s okay?” Priya looks at him, apologetically. Bobby just stares back, for a few painful seconds.

“Yeah. _Yes._ Of course!” He stutters, realising he should probably answer, trying to not look totally panicked. _Girlfriend. Dinner. Family. Fuck._ “Yes. Have dinner with us.” He wraps an arm around her and pulls her in close.

His mum practically beams, like she’s the sun itself. Terry steps out into the hallway then, looking as ecstatic.

“Did I hear dinner?” He grins. 

Bobby rolls his eyes, staring straight down at the floor. Fuck, this is really happening, huh. He tightens his grip around Priya’s shoulders and she rubs his back with her hand gently. Terry stands up a little straighter when he catches eyes with Priya.

“Sorry - I didn’t realise we had company -” He says and holds a hand out towards her. “I’m Terry.”

“Oh!” Priya’s eyes light up. “You must be Bobby’s dad?”

“Step-dad.” Bobby and Terry correct at the exact same time.

Priya just nods, mouth hanging open like she wants to continue talking but she can’t. Terry lets her hand fall from his grip and it falls back to her side, heavily. Ah, yeah this is really happening.

“So -” His mother interrupts the silence. “Dinner?”

  
  


**

**Chelsea, Noah**

_19:02_

“Pig or Cow?”

“Cow. Fo’ sho.”

“Really?”

“Why would I want to be a pig?” Chelsea frowns. 

She’s lying on Noah’s bedroom floor, legs resting up against his door. She looks like a giant L. Her thumbs are rapidly moving over the gameboy in her hands, eyebrows screwed in concentration. Galaga requires full attention.

“Why would you want to be a _cow?_ ” Noah asks from his place on the bed. He’s spread out on his back too, staring at the ceiling as he absently throws balled up socks into the air and catching it again. Throw. Catch. Throw. Catch.

“Cows are caring.”

“I’m sure pigs are caring.”

“Not like cows.” She says. “What time is it?”

Noah glances at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 

“Two minutes past seven.”

“Are we meeting Bobby beforehand?” Chelsea asks. 

“I don’t know. I called his house before you arrived and he’s with Priya so -” He shrugs to himself.

“Girlfriends.” She mumbles and shakes her head. Noah snorts.

“Officially?”

“Not sure.” She pauses. “He should ask her.”

Ever since Bobby and Priya started their little thing, the three of them don’t hang out as much. Well, they do. But, it wasn’t so much hanging out as it was Chelsea and Noah entertaining themselves whilst Bobby explores Priya’s mouth with his tongue like he’s trying to extract oil. 

“But doesn’t he still like -” Noah starts.

“Yep.”

“Even though he’s -”

“Uh-huh.” She nods.

“He should probably -”

“ _Yeah_.”

Chelsea groans as the gameboy chimes a little _boom!_ The Galalga music starts up again, asking for a new game.

“Ugh. This game sucks.”

  
  


**

  
  


**Gary, Ibrahim**

_19:16_

“Dude.” Ibrahim groans into his palms. “No one is going to care what you wear. It’s fucking prank night.”

“I know, I know -” Gary frowns, looking down at himself. “Doesn’t hurt to try does it?”

“Gaz -”

“Effort can go a long way y’know.”

“Bro.” Rahim drags his hands down his face, letting them flop down into his lap. “She won’t care.”

“What -” Gary straightens up, eyes wide. “I’m… I’m not _trying_ for anyone - I want to look nice.”

“ _She won’t care._ ” Rahim sing-songs, looking him directly in the eyes. “Also, you look like a tomato.” He cracks up, pointing at Gary’s completely red face.

Gary doesn’t respond, turning back to look at himself in the mirror. 

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby, Priya**

_19:54_

“Bobby says that you were training to be a diver? Is that right?”

“Oh,” Priya delicately places her fork on her plate and nods. “Yes. For a few years. I had a bad injury a year ago... and haven’t really recovered. So -” She shrugs. “Now I just live here. My sisters are still training, though.”

“Oh honey, that’s terrible.” Bobby’s mother extends a hands out, placing it on Priya’s arm for a comforting squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She laughs it off, smiling. “I’m mostly over it. It’s weird having a lot of free time, especially in the summer.”

“What kind of injury was it?”

“My ankles. Achilles.”

“How did you do it?”

“ _Beth_.” Terry laughs, sitting back in his chair. “Let the girl breathe. C’mon.”

Bobby’s heart skips, watching his mum shoot Priya a smile and digging back into her food. For once he is thankful that Terry’s opened his mouth. They’re all sitting at the kitchen table, Bobby and Priya sat opposite Emily with his mother and Terry on the ends. It was so weirdly formal. They never normally sit down for dinner. And when they did it was normally with sparse conversation, sprinkled with an awkward and uncomfortable silence.

"I'm guessing you guys met at the beach?" Emily asks, turning to Priya.

"Yeah." Priya smiles. "Along those lines."

"Never known someone to love the beach as much Bobby." Beth smiles, laughing to herself. "Let alone get up early in the morning for it."

Bobby laughs nervously, looking down at his plate.

"It's not that early." He tries.

"Oh, please -" She laughs. "Don't think I can't hear you rummaging around at 5 in the morning."

Priya laughs, kinda confused but doesn't look at him.

"Early bird and all that." Terry adds.

Jesus, Terry might actually be Bobby's saviour this evening. He can't help but let a small smile slip out when he looks over at him. Terry tries to not look too pleased.

" _Exactly_." Bobby says, gesturing to him. "Early morning sea is the best sea."

“No crowds, empty sea, empty mind.” Terry nods to himself. “Beautiful.”

Bobby stares over at Terry, again taken by his words. He is somewhat making sense today. _Huh._ Beth looks between them, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

Soon after dinner, Priya stands with Emily at the kitchen sink.

Emily’s scrubbing the dishes in hot water. Priya watches the suds get washed away as Emily rinses them off thoroughly, before passing the plate over to her. They stay like that in silence for a while. Emily scrubs, rinses and passes. Priya wipes down, dries and stacks them up neatly.

Emily can sense Priya is trying to build up the courage to say something. She wouldn’t be fidgeting so much if she were content. Plus, the side eyes she was giving her every now and then screamed that she wanted to open her mouth. Emily begins to rinse off the last plate and just as she moves to pass it over to Priya, she looks her in the eyes with a small smile.

“You okay?” She asks, laughing a little.

“I’m fine.” Priya tries as she takes hold of the plate. Emily doesn’t let go, still staring at her directly in the eyes. When Priya tries to take the plate again she just tightens her grip, raising her eyebrows.

“I don’t want to come across as rude.” Priya says, quietly.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Emily laughs, letting go of the plate now. “Having Bobby as a brother sets me up for rudeness all the time.”

Priya snickers as he begins wiping the plate down. She stacks it with the others, taking her time and poking the edges so they’re all aligned. Emily turns the sink off before turning around and leaning back on the counter.

“Seriously.” Emily murmurs. “What’s up?”

Priya knows Bobby’s upstairs but that doesn’t stop her from hesitantly looking through the slightly ajar door. She can hear Terry and Beth speaking in low voices as they finish their drinks. Beth lets out a loud laugh, similar rhythm to how Bobby laughs sometimes.

“I -” Priya frowns, looking at the dishcloth in her hands. “Can I ask you a question? Well, maybe it’s more of an enquiry but -” She pauses. “It’s not _super_ personal, but it could be taken the wrong way? I don’t know -”

“Priya.” Emily laughs. “It’s fine.”

Priya glances over at the door again. 

“I didn’t realise you had a step-dad.” She mumbles.

“Oh.” Emily nods. “Bobby doesn’t talk about him much.”

“No kidding.” Priya says, making Emily laugh.

“It happens.” She shrugs, turning back to look at the sink. “They don't have the best relationship.”

“Oh.”

“And it only got worse after dad died.”

Priya reels back slightly, eyes wide. _What._ She’s clenching the tea towel in her hands so tight, she swears she’s piercing her own palms.

“What?”

Emily stares at her, eyebrows pinched in confusion.

“Has he not -”

“Hey!” Bobby chimes, pushing the door open.

The girls whip around, completely taken by surprise. They didn’t even hear him come down the stairs.

“Hey.” Emily rushes out, forcing a grin. “You good?”

“Super.” Bobby nods, looking between them and sliding up next to Priya, planting a kiss on her temple. “You ready to go?” He asks.

Priya blinks up at him, lips curling up into a small smile as she nods.

  
  


**

  
  


**Hope, Lottie, Marisol**

_20:03_

“Lottie.” Hope says, watching her pace back and forth in the arcade space. “Chill out. She’ll be here.”

A palette with a slab of wood sits in the centre of the room, the perfect makeshift table. A square map sits in the centre, covered with gadgets and a few beer bottles. Some of the roads and houses on the map are marked with small red crosses.

“She was supposed to be here an _hour_ ago.” Lottie says, stopping to look at her. “We’re supposed to hash out the final plans. She’s the one who needs this -”

“I think it’s pretty water tight already.”

“But, what if it’s not?”

“Lottie. You need to trust the plan.” Hope sighs, trying her best not to roll her eyes. Convincing Lottie to believe anything was always a challenge. “And I need _you_ to trust yourself.”

Lottie sighs, crossing her arms.

“Poppy knows what she's doing. We’ll be fine.” Hope reassures. “When has she never pulled through?”

“But what if she doesn’t -”

Marisol walks in, cheeks pink and out of breath. Hope’s eyes sparkle. Thank fuck, perfect timing.

“Maybe Mars had some luck.” Hope turns to her, hopeful look on her face.

“No luck.” Marisol says, frowning. “Wasn’t picking up. I called Gary too and he hasn’t heard from her.”

Lottie groans and Hope flops back in her chair, defeated.

“Did you try Lucas?”

“Yeah.” Marisol hesitates. “He’s with Hannah. They can’t come.”

“... What?”

“Date night. _Apparently_.”

Hope raises her eyebrows, surprised.

“He sounded out of breath on the phone.” Marisol adds, giggling.

“Ah.” Lottie nods, with a knowing smile. “Say no more.”

  
  


**

  
  


**Poppy, Rocco**

_20:10_

“ _Fuck_.” Poppy hisses. “Fuck, oh shit -”

“What?” Rocco mumbles, arm thrown over his eyes. He feels the bed dip and spring up as she clambers out. She’s already got her underwear on when he shifts and cracks an eye open to look at her.

“Was supposed to meet the others an hour ago!” She talks quickly, rummaging through the discarded clothes on the floor with one hand and trying her best to keep her tits covered with the other.

“The others?”

“The girls. Fuck. Lottie's gonna kill me."

"The girls?"

"It’s prank night.”

“Shit. That’s _tonight?_ ”

She turns, frowning a little as she looks at him on the bed, naked as the day he was born. He’s craning his neck, looking at her kneeling on the floor. Rocco always looks so completely spaced out, she can never really tell what he’s thinking.

“Yes. Tonight. _Fuck._ ” She sighs, mostly from relief as she finally finds her bra and makes haste to put it on. "You're like a key player, dude. C'mon. Half of this stemmed from you anyways."

“Shit.” He sits up now, looking over at her clock. “I gotta pick up Henrik.”

“Can you give me a lift?”

Rocco purses his lips, looking unsure.

“Seriously?” She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Unbelievable.”

The post-nut clarity is hitting hard. God. She never knows why she does this to herself. 

It was never awkward after they hooked up, they were good enough mates to know this is never going to go anywhere serious. Plus, it always helps with a little narcotic influence. Luckily for Poppy he was always packing. And in more ways than one.

It doesn't happen often. But it happens. He kisses her back when she’s stupid drunk and she listens to his wild rambles when they’re sitting on her balcony at 3am. She steals him cigarettes from the kiosks in town and he shares his weed. There was a weird balance they had somehow figured out. 

_Yeah_ , the sex is good and _yes_ she always gets to smoke good shit with him and _yes_ they use protection. But, getting with Rocco was kinda… weird. It just doesn't make sense. Like putting salt instead of sugar into a cake. 

You really want that cake, but in too much of a hurry to gather the right ingredients. Making it is pretty fun but you know it’ll be wrong and god awful at the end but hey, you got a cake.

Those small moments always made her feel less lonely. But not happy. She craves the sweetness.

“I’ll be late.” He pouts, batting his long eyelashes at her.

“You’re a dick. That’s what you are.” She says, pulling a shirt over her head.

“You’re hot when you’re angry.” He muses, lying back down.

“And you’re still a dick.” She stands up, chucking his jeans at him.

Rocco grumbles, getting up from the bed. Poppy looks a little hectic, sifting through her draws and wardrobe, trying to pull her stuff together and cram it into a nearby rucksack. She wiggles into some denim shorts, pulling on socks and trainers too. Rocco justs watches, lethargic as he pulls his jeans up. She starts pulling her hair into a ponytail, watching her hands work in the mirror, until Rocco walks up behind her and gently places his hands on her hips.

“Hey,”

She visibly tenses, forcing herself to keep her eyes on herself. “What?” She huffs, unsatisfied with her hair. So, she starts again.

“I’ll give you a lift.”

Poppy stares at him in the mirror, eyes meeting his own for a second. He smiles. She smiles back.

“Good.” She says, moving away from him and opening her wardrobe.

She listens to him get dressed, filing through her own clothes. God knows how long they’ll be out tonight, probably for the best to wrap up. She stops for a second, landing on an unfamiliar black sweatshirt. It’s a little faded, the yellow star wars emblem on the front has almost completely gone. She takes it off the hanger, getting a better look at it. The label inside the neckline flips over, revealing some neat stitching.

In small red letters it reads ‘Bobby’.

Oh. Something dips in her chest, like the gentle flap of a butterfly wing. The sweatshirt he gave her after she’d been walking in the rain. She hesitantly turns to look at Rocco but he’s already left the room. Softly, she squeezes her hands into fists, feeling how cushy the fabric is against her palms. Opposite of how her own clothes feel.

Without a second thought, she puts it on. She needs to wear something dark tonight anyway. Or, that’s how she justifies it to herself. _It’s fine, I’ll just give it back_. She gathers the rest of her things, flicking off lights as she walks through the house. Rocco’s waiting by the front door, keys jingling in his hand.

“C’mon. We’re gonna be late.” She says grinning and opening the front door.

He just rolls his eyes, smiling and following her out.

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby, Priya**

_20:30_

The couple have walked in silence almost the entire time. 

Bobby doesn’t know what to say or do for that matter. Everytime the words start to bubble up in his throat, just on the tip of his tongue, they get sucked back in again. Priya’s not even looking at him, walking at a steady pace, keeping her focus straight ahead and hands tightly grasping the straps of her backpack.

He can see the old rickety sign of the arcade ahead. He knows if he doesn’t say something now then they’ll probably not ever talk about it. He really thinks he should say something. After a few seconds, he does.

“Are you… mad at me?” He tries.

“No, I’m not mad at you.” Priya shakes her head.

“Then, what’s happening?”

“Nothing’s happening.”

“ _Something’s_ happening -”

“Just -” She stops in her stride, stopping him too. “I’m not mad.”

“But, you’re something.”

“I can be something if I want to be.” She starts walking again and he follows.

“Annoyed?”

“Bobby -”

“I’m serious! If I’ve done something to upset you then, shouldn’t we... talk about it?”

This is so weirdly adult. Bobby’s never one for bringing up the idea of talking about feelings, but this doesn’t feel right. They stop in front of the doors to the arcade. Priya turns to face him, with her arms folded up. 

“I don’t think now is a good time.”

“I don’t think any time will be a good time if you’re this mad.”

“I’m not _mad -_ ” She throws her arms up into the air. “ _Jesus._ ” She walks over to the brickwall and sits down.

Bobby takes it as a sign to sit down too. He gently places his hands over hers where it’s laying on the brick. She sighs as she turns to look at him.

“Emily told me your dad died.”

And… fuck. The world stops spinning for Bobby then and there, white hot heat piercing straight through his chest and his eyes glazing over. Jesus, this is what he gets for opening his mouth. The air rushes out of his lungs, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts to mull over. 

He can’t speak. He just stares at her. He’s never known how to talk about his father’s passing. 

What _do_ you even say?

Should he start with the crushing weight? The nights where he dreams he's still alive, plummeted back into reality when he opens his eyes again? The injustice? The pain of not even being able to say goodbye? _That he’s alone_ ? That he feels completely and totally and utterly _alone_?

Death came to his father like a powerful shot. One second he was gazing at the sea, admiring and inhaling the salty ocean breeze, feeling like his youthful self. The next he was just… _gone._ Strokes aren’t kind, aggressive and full-throttle, giving you maybe a second or so of confusion before the world fades into an inky and inescapable darkness.

_What do you even say about that?_

So, Bobby does what he can do best. Why talk when you can deflect.

“You’re annoyed because I didn’t tell you about my dad?”

“ _No_ \- god, no. Never that. I’m not annoyed.”

“But, it’s something to do with that?”

“I - _no_...” She looks down at her trainers. “It’s stupid.”

Bobby just waits, heart racing in his chest.

“You’re just…” She shakes her head. “You don’t tell me anything. I didn’t even know you have a _step_ -dad.”

Bobby shrugs. “I don’t tell anyone that.”

“Why?” She looks over at him.

“Why would I tell anyone anything like that?” He frowns.

Priya goes quiet. Bobby just stares. _What do you say?_ Her gaze is very much fixed on her shoes. But he _knows_ she can feel him looking at her. Priya’s cheeks turn into diamonds as she tenses and grinds her teeth, forcing herself to look down. 

“I have to go.” She says, standing up suddenly.

“No, Priya -” He reaches out to her, placing a hand on her arm.

“No.” She shakes his hand off him. “I have to go.” She says again sternly, looking at him in the eyes. No longer that glowing amber, but a stormy black.

He can feel his eyes prickling and heat rising up to cheeks. He watches her walk in the direction they came from, her figure lighting up as she walks under the streetlamps before fading into the black of the night as she rounds the corner and disappears. She doesn’t look back at him, not even once.

“Fuck.” He says, down at the floor. He grips onto the brick wall so tight, he can feel blood rising to his fingertips. “ _Fuck_.” He says again, louder this time, putting his hands into his hair and gripping hard. “Fuck!”

He stands up from the wall, wiping his face quickly with his sleeve before going inside. He doesn’t have time for this. Not today.

  
  


**

  
  


**Gary, Ibrahim**

_20:41_

Ibrahim pokes his head out of the arcade's double doors, finding Gary sitting up on the brick wall. He’s fiddling with the hem of his shirt and swinging his legs, absently staring into the distance.

“Dude.” Rahim says, snapping up Gary’s attention.

“What?”

“You’re not seriously… _waiting -_ ”

He’s interrupted, the sound of loud but distant laughter echoing down the street from somewhere. Seconds later, Chelsea and Noah round the corner, talking amongst themselves. Noah murmurs something and Chelsea laughs loudly again. Bubbly and perfect. Gary’s heart just about leaves his chest, it jumps so high.

“Hey, Rahim!” Chelsea beams, giving him a light tap on the arm as she walks past and inside. Noah follows, grinning and saying hello as well.

Ibrahim gives it about 7 seconds before he starts laughing, loud and unapologetic. Gary just groans, flipping him off and hopping off the wall to follow him inside.

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby, Chelsea, Gary, Hope, Ibrahim, Lottie, Marisol, Noah**

_20:42_

“Here.” Lottie says. She passes Chelsea and Noah a watch each, as they walk in.

“Watches?” Noah frowns down at it. 

“Yes.” Lottie nods. “Put it on.” She takes a second to look him up and down. “Are you wearing a red sweatshirt?”

Noah looks down at himself.

“Yes.” He says to his chest.

“Bright red.” She corrects herself.

“Yes.” He nods. “Bright red.”

“ _Bright red._ On a night where we don’t want to be seen?” Lottie punctuates her words by poking him on the shoulder.

“Ah.” Noah mumbles. “I see where I may have missed the mark.”

“So far past the mark.” Lottie shakes her head, walking off.

Oh, boy. Noah stalks over to Gary and Ibrahim chatting in the corner of the room, fashion advice on the mind. Chelsea skips over to where Bobby’s sitting on the floor, in his usual place. But without his usual partner. She frowns to see him alone, securing his watch on.

“No Priya?” She asks, sitting down next to him.

“No.” Bobby shakes his head, trying to think. “She couldn’t come.”

“Awh.” Chelsea pouts. “She’s gonna miss all the fun.”

The room turns as they hear the door open, followed by Henrik, Poppy and Rocco walking in. Poppy keeps her eyes on the ground, walking over to the leather sofa on the other side of the room, until she catches sight of Noah and his offensive eye attire.

“Dude.” She stops in her tracks looking at him. “You look like a cherry.”

“I said strawberry.” Gary nods.

“Nice.” Poppy clicks her fingers and points.

“I missed the mark.” Noah sulks.

“Big time.” Ibrahim adds. 

Poppy looks down at herself. Bobby’s sweatshirt. She risks a glance at him where he’s sat on the floor, talking with Chelsea. That weird unfamiliar flip feeling happens in her chest again.

“Have mine.” She says.

Noah stares at her in the eyes. Then down. Then up again.

“But - it’s a girl’s sweatshirt.”

“It’s not a _girl_ sweatshirt, you blockhead -” She pulls it over her head and holds it out for him. “It’s a sweatshirt. Put it on.”

“ _Right._ ” Lottie projects and interrupts everyone. She ushers the gang to gather round. “Let’s go over this one more time.”

Noah takes the sweatshirt, mouthing a silent thank you to Poppy as they take a seat. She shoots him a smile back.

The plan was laid out and simple enough. Distract Stirling long enough to shift his produce without getting caught. It left no room for error. The plan relies so heavily on synchronisation that even one mess up will cause the plan to collapse completely. All the while, they have to keep the Neighbourhood watch gang off their backs.

Totally straight forward and simple.

“We have no Priya tonight -” Her lips screw up in the corner of her face. She bounces a pen on the table between her fingers as she thinks. As her gaze lands on Bobby, he sheepishly looks down and toys with his watch strap. “Bobby, can you hop on to distraction duty with Poppy instead?”

His attention snaps up, looking at the blonde in the eyes and then glancing over to Poppy. She doesn’t look at him, already glaring at Lottie.

“I can handle it myself.” Poppy says.

“He’s _fast._ ” Lottie murmurs. “You guys are comfortable around each other. It works. Plus, it’s safer if there’s two of you.”

Poppy decides not to fight it.

Soon after, everyone starts fanning out into their groups, talking in low voices. Lottie side eyes Poppy for a second before, catching her staring at the floor and fiddling with a loose thread on her clothes. Lightly, she places a hand on Poppy’s leg, making her freeze up and whip around to look at her.

“Are you okay?” Lottie whispers.

Poppy just nods, faking one of her brilliant smiles. But Lottie knows her better than that.

“Pops -”

“I’m _fine_. I…” Her eyes dart over to where Rocco is laughing loudly with Henrik and Hope. “I got a little distracted. It’s fine. I’m okay. I’m _sorry,_ I know this is important. For both of us -”

“Don’t be sorry -”

“Lottie -” Gary calls, grabbing her attention. “It’s almost time.”

Lottie looks over to Poppy again, the unsureness in her eyes so easy to read. Poppy grips her hand in her own and squeezes hard. The unsureness wavers for a second, until Poppy breaks out in a smile and speaks.

“Let’s do it.” She grins. Lottie beams back.

They all stare intensely down at their wrists, not making a single sound. Bobby tries not to blink, scared that even now if he messes up he’ll ruin the whole operation. He can feel his eyes watering, staring down at the seconds tick along. 

“ _Three… two… one…_ ” Lottie says.

A chorus of beeps fills the room. The watch reads _21:00_ . Nine o’clock. _Okay_. This is really happening then. His first heist. And hopefully his last. But, nothing is ever guaranteed here.

With their watches synchronised, clothes dark and bodys running on adrenaline, they split off into their respective teams, blending into the darkness of the night. 

  
  


**

  
  


**Henrik, Rocco**

_21:15_

Rocco knocks forcefully on the wood of the door before turning to Henrik.

“You good, man?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Henrik nods.

They hear a chain rattle as it slides and unlocks. The door cracks open slightly, half of Stirling standing behind it. He frowns, opening the door wider when he gets a look at them.

“Yo -” He grins and steps forward, hand extended. He grabs Rocco by the hand, pulling him in for a quick bro hug and does the same with Henrik. “How’s it going, guys?”

“Good, man.” Henrik grins at him. “Hopefully even better in a bit. You good to smoke tonight?”

“Yeah, yeah - always man. Come on in.” He says, stepping aside to let them in. Rocco grins and claps him on the back as he walks past. Here we go.

Stirling’s dressed in what can only be described as… hobo-chic. He’s got on some sort of purple, silk kimono and house slippers. God knows if he’s wearing anything else underneath. His moustache is a little grown out, as well as his stubble, making him look a bit scruffy. But, most importantly, he’s sporting those aviators he dearly cherishes. They’re needed even indoors apparently.

Stirling’s house is pretty bare. It’s probably how you would imagine a middle-ages man’s home to look like, if being a lifeguard is your main profession. He’s got a few beat up sofas in the middle of his half-living room half-kitchen, a chunky TV set up in the corner and dirty dishes in the dripping sink. The persian style rugs on the floor look old and tired. But the walls, the walls are really where you see Stirling’s story. 

There are medals, plaques, and trophies… _everywhere._ They stand tall and great and _bright_ as if he’s received all of them that day. He’s clearly proud of them, displaying them alongside newspaper cutouts of articles with blurry, black and white pictures of his younger self. The headlines are mostly the same, all praise and glory for this young brit boy rising through the ranks of the world of swimming.

“What have you got today, big man?” Rocco asks, settling himself into one of the sofas. Henrik sits next to him, relaxing back into the cushions.

“Prepare yourselves.” Stirlings claps his hands together. He takes the remote on the coffee table and mutes the TV. He’s watching reruns of Miami Vice. How fitting. “Imagine if that Afghan shit and that Thai shit had a _baby_ -” He locks his hands together, nodding enthusiastically. “And _those_ babies had babies. You get me?”

Rocco just blinks at him, nodding along. Dealers, man. So damn weird.

“I get you.” Henrik grins.

Stirling holds up his fingers, excusing himself and walking out the room towards the back of the house. Rocco peaks around, watching as he goes through a door to another room. Bingo

  
  


**

  
  


**Lottie, Marisol, Priya**

_21:21_

The girls are situated just in front of Stirling’s house, across the street. The bushes are good enough cover for now and thankfully the old street lamps lining the road don’t illuminate too much around them. Lottie stares through a pair of binoculars, casing the house. She can just about see Rocco and Henrik take a seat in the lounge. Stirling is talking enthusiastically with his hands.

“Make the call.” Lottie murmurs.

Sometimes in order to get ahead of your enemies is to play their game. It’s safer to know where Blake is than not know at all.

Marisol silently stands up, carefully pulling her hood over her head and walking down the street to a payphone. Quickly, she dials in a number, scanning her eyes around the area for any passersby. It rings three times before someone picks up.

_“Neighbourhood Watch services, how can I help?”_

Marsol pinches her nose and starts talking from the back of her throat. She sounds like a croaky old lady with some sort of respiratory problem.

“Hello? Hello?” She groans.

_“Hi there - uh, how can I help?”_

“I need to report a disturbance.” Marisol says, pointedly. “Some kids or something in the area!”

_“Oh - ma’am I’m so sorry, are they causing any property damage or -”_

“It’s disturbing my cats!”

“ _What is your location?”_

  
  


**

  
  


**Gary, Ibrahim**

_21:23_

“What am I ordering again?” Gary questions.

“Half sausage, half veggie.” Rahim nods, looking at the instruction written on the back of his hand.

It’s fully dark outside now, just the small light in the phone booth to accompany them. They’re about two streets away from Stirling’s house.

“That may be the worst combination I’ve ever heard.” Gary shakes his head, sad.

“Henrik is vegetarian.”

“Since when?”

“Forever.”

“Shit, really? I could never be a veggie, man.”

“I know. You like your sausage too much.” Ibrahim laughs to himself.

“Think you’ll find that it’s the girls that like my sausage.” Gary says, turning back to the phone and dialling.

“Well.” Ibrahim purses his lips, trying not to smile. “Accept for one.”

“Dude -” Gary puts the receiver back, with a loud _clack!_ “Don’t.”

“Oh, c’mon. It’s pretty jokes.”

“ _Is it?_ ”

“ _Years_ worth of girls on the island right now and the one time you’re into one, she doesn’t even give you the time of day.” Ibrahim says, cracking up now. “Absolute bants.”

“Yeah. Hilarious.” Gary stares at him, not amused the slightest.

“I’m sure she’ll warm up to you soon enough.”

“We said that _weeks_ ago.”

“Just order the pizza, dude.” He punches Gary on the arm. Gary punches him back. “We gotta get into position.” He says, looking down at his watch and patting the bag on his back.

“One side sausage, one side veg - right?” Gary puts the phone to his ear again.

Ibrahim gives him a nod.

“Still the worst combination.” Gary mumbles annoyed, before dialling.

  
  


**

  
  


**Chelsea, Noah**

_21:25_

“Lottie… or Hannah.”

“Lottie.”

“Really?”

“Lottie looks like a good kisser.” Chelsea says, hand on heart.

“I guess.” Noah mumbles.

The duo are situated at the back of Stirling’s house, sitting back against the wood of the building and waiting for their cue. There is a small square window just above them, with frosted glass. Thankfully, Stirling has enough overgrown grass in his back garden to hide them both almost completely. Just the tip of Chelsea’s bright, platinum blonde ponytail can be seen poking out the top, like a little periscope.

“Lottie or Poppy?” Chelsea asks.

“Hm.” Noah taps his chin. “Poppy. Lottie scares me.”

“Hah. Okay, how ‘bout _Priya_ or Poppy.”

“Sounds like a Bobby problem.” Noah snorts.

Chelsea cracks up. With wide eyes, Noah throws a hand out, covering her mouth and shushes her. They both sag back against the house again when their laughs fizzle out into tired sighs. Noah blinks up at the sky for a moment before turning to face her again.

“Do you really think he still likes her?” He asks, quietly.

Chelsea doesn’t look at him straight away, eyes focused on the swaying long grass in front of them. She sucks her teeth and looks at the ground, counting the stones by her sneakers.

“We shouldn’t get involved.” Chelsea whispers, shaking her head.

“I know, it’s just -” Noah dramatically rolls his eyes. “I don’t see any of this ending well.”

“And you think us getting in the middle of it is going to make it end well?”

“No, god - no. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Noah.” Chelsea frowns at him. “Bobby is our friend. But, I strongly believe this is something that should come from his mouth. Not someone else’s. They’re his problems and his feelings and if he really likes Priya that much he should be able to articulate that to her.”

Noah doesn’t answer, just nods, looking a little sceptical but accepting. If there’s anything they don’t need right now it’s drama. Chelsea looks up into the sky, squinting as her eyes adjust to look at the stars. The sky is so clear tonight

“I like Poppy.” Noah says with a smile. “She gave me her sweatshirt.” He grins, pulling at the neckline.

“I like her, too.” Chelsea hums.

  
  


**

  
  


**Lottie, Marisol, Hope**

_21:30_

Soon enough the ‘disturbance’ is called in.

“Perfect.” Lottie whispers, ducking further back into the bushes and points. They all watch as Blake walks along the street, like every step is important. On a mission. “And with reinforcements.”

Next to her stands a tall and big-built man. Ginger hair. Both arms are covered in sleeve tattoos. Marisol’s eyes widen when she gets a look at him. Alongside them is a short haired girl, riding a bike.

“Do you know the others?” Hope whispers.

“No.” Lottie squints her eyes, trying to get a better look.

“We have eyes on Blake.” Marisol speaks into the radio in her hand.

Lottie frowns as Blake walks up the steps to the house two doors down from Stirling’s and knocks on the door.

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby, Poppy**

_21:31_

_“_ What’s her location?” Poppy answers.

“ _Two doors down from Stirling’s.”_ Marisol says. The channel crackles with white noise before she talks again. “ _Get ready to light up, t-minus two minutes._ ”

The channel goes dead silent, amplifying all the other noise around them. All Bobby can hear is crickets and the faint sound of cars driving by in the distance. They’re kneeling next to some scrubs a few streets away, just behind a row of houses. At least a five minute walk away from Stirling’s place. Plenty of distance for them to get a good head start.

Poppy’s searching through her rucksack, frowning. She pulls out a red bandana with a paisley pattern. She folds it neatly into a long strip and ties it around her head, pushing her hair away from her face.

“What is that?” Bobby laughs.

“My bandana.” 

“Your bandana?”

“Yeah, Bobby. My _bandana_.” She laughs at him.

“Why are you wearing a bandana?”

“I wear it for every prank.” She smiles. “Every great criminal has their staple. This is mine."

Bobby smiles back, eyes roaming from her hairline all the way down to her chin. She looks a little different, with all her hair pushed back. He’s normally so used to the loose curls framing her face. She looks so youthful for a split second. There’s a little bit of static from the radio, before Lottie’s voice comes through.

“ _One minute._ ”

Fuck. _Fuck._

“You ready?” Poppy grins over at him. He nods.

His heart is thumping like crazy, all he can do is watch as Poppy opens the rucksack, and carefully sticks a firework into the soft soil beneath their feet. It’s nothing special, just one of those little bottle rockets you can get for cheap. But still, it’s a firework.

“Twenty seconds.” She says quietly, looking at her watch.

His heart is going crazy. He feels the same nerves start to bubble up, just like the first time she spoke to him.

“Hey, Bobby,” Poppy whispers before biting her tongue. 

He looks over at her, watching as she opens her mouth to continue talking but she doesn’t. Her eyes dart between his own, looking confused as to why the words can’t come out. His eyes look so green instead of the normal hazel, in the street lamp’s glow. She gives up and sighs before uttering those all infamous words she told him way back.

“Don’t be scared.”

Bobby nods, taking a deep breath and counting as he inhales and exhales deeply. _Three… two… one._

He sparks up the lighter, eyes wide as the fuse starts to sizzle. It reminds him of New Years Eve with his family, in the back garden lighting sparklers and firecrackers at the dead of night. He stays there for a second, watching it, realising this is actually fucking _real_ and it’s very much fucking lit. He doesn’t move until he hears Poppy shouting and laughing.

“Go! _Go_ , go, fucking go!” She grabs the radio in one hand and his arm in the other, hauling him up.

They run, legs carrying them as fast as they can down the street. They’re only about 15 steps away when there’s a huge fizzle as the rocket shoots up into the air and then -

_Bang!_

Yeah, they’re definitely going to hear that.

  
  


**

  
  


**Hope, Lottie, Marisol**

_21:32_

Shit. Shit. _Shit._

Blake’s walking up the steps _straight_ to Stirling’s house now. Fuck this is it - they’re going to get caught, aren’t they, not even in the midst of the plan yet. They’re going to get caught right now.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon -” Lottie chants under her breath, eyeing the seconds on her watch tick along.

Blake raises her hand, squares her shoulders, just to about to knock on the door and -

_Bang!_

A firework.

_Bang!_

A second firework. In a different direction.

Hope clenches her fist, watching as Blake and crew look up to the sky, multi-coloured lights dancing all along their gobsmacked faces. The girls exchange early victory high-fives as subtly as they can.

“ _Yes._ ” Hope breathes out, relieved.

They watch as the group take off in different directions, short-hair, bike girl to the west and Blake and burly-ginger to the east. Cat and mouse time. As soon as they’re out of sight, Lottie stands up abruptly, flashlight in her grip, pointing at Stirling’s front window.

  
  


**

  
  


**Henrik, Rocco**

_21:33_

A bright light, like high-beams, shines in through the window, hitting Henrik directly in the face. It flashes three times. 

One.

Two.

Three.

The signal. Stirling doesn’t seem to notice at all, too enwrapped by the now unmuted TV playing Miami Vice at full volume. Rocco looks over to Henrik and subtly widens his eyes, nodding over to the door to the hallway. Stirling sits up in his seat, looking vaguely towards the window as another firework sets off.

“Hey dude,” Henrik starts to get up. “Gonna use your loo, alright?”

“Yeah, man. Yeah.” Stirling waves him off, eyes going back to the TV. He laughs loudly at something Don Johnson says. Rocco doesn’t get it but he laughs along as well.

It’s not until Henrik’s out the room that it hits how real this is. His heart is up in his throat, beating erratically. Gingerly, he pushes open the door where Stirling disappeared to, minutes ago. Ah, fuck.

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, _shit._ ” He mumbles to himself, walking quickly to the bathroom.

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby, Poppy**

_21:34_

They run down an alley, connecting two of the main roads in the area. Poppy kneels down, taking another firework out of her bag and grinning as she lights it. They run again, waiting for the fizzle and pop. Bobby can’t breath but he can’t stop running now, he won’t. He has no idea how he’s going to last but he has to. Like Lottie said, he’ll be fine. He’s quick.

Poppy’s running next to him like she’s never done it before, as if she’s never once smoked a cigarette. It’s dark and scary and down right fucking crazy. It’s hard taking steps when you don’t know where they lead, trusting someone else when they’re also blind. You don’t know where your foot will fall. But he trusts Poppy and he’s certain she’ll guide him, blind or not.

He can hear the other fireworks in the distance, somewhere west. _Gary and Ibrahim,_ he thinks. _They must be pretty fast_. He looks up to the sky for a split second, mesmerised by the expanding blue and green sparks against the black sky. 

They stop again, near an open greenery.

Bobby looks at his watch as Poppy rips open the bag again. _21:35_. Blake must’ve heard them. She must be on the move by now. She must be fast.

“Three… two… _one._ ” Poppy breathes.

She lights the fuse. They run.

They pass the open field and into the woods behind the residential area. It’s pitch black, only their vague sense of direction and adrenaline racing through their veins leading them away. Precisely after a minute of running, Poppy skids to a stop, crouching behind someone’s stone wall, fencing off their back garden.

“Shit.” Bobby gasps, raking his hair away from his face. It’s no use, it drops back down as soon as his fingers move away. 

Poppy watches him, panting as well. It’s so cold tonight their hot breath is forming into clouds in front of them and evaporating as it climbs the cold night air. She watches him flop back his hair one more time before rolling her eyes to herself.

“Here.” She says.

Bobby looks up, locking eyes on her hand holding out her red bandana.

“But, that’s your prank bandana -”

Poppy just shrugs. “Yours now.”

He takes it, not thinking about it too much. And surprisingly, it is super helpful. But he could have done without the forehead sweat, though.

“Jesus,” He looks at her as he secures the knot at the back of his head. “How much does your head sweat?”

Poppy laughs mockingly, before punching him on the arm.

A faint pop fills the air again, interrupting them. The other fireworks are far away now. Poppy rips her bag open again, passing him a firework. Okay, back to business.

“ _Three… two… one_.” He counts, lighting another one. They don’t pause this time. Just get up and run. 

As the bang erupts in the sky above them, a far away voice cries out. “STOP! STAY WHERE YOU ARE!”

But they don’t. They don’t stop running. Stopping anytime soon is not part of the plan.

  
  


**

**Chelsea, Noah**

_21:34_

_Bang!_ Another firework.

“Those fireworks won’t hold them off for long.”

On cue, the window above them shoots up and Henrik pops his head out.

“ _Hey!_ ” He whispers.

“Oh, thank fuck.” Chelsea says. “Do you have the shit?”

“It’s locked away.” He says. “Can either of you pick locks?”

Chelsea nods and Noah raises his eyebrows at her, tilting his head.

“Oh, don’t give me that look.” She scowls, hitting him gently. “Give me a boost.”

Noah crouches down, bracing his hands flat against the house as Chelsea climbs on top of him. She grabs onto the ledge of the window, hauling herself with Henrik’s helping hands. She’s almost all the way inside when her shoe catches on the window sill. With a small yelp, she loses her balance and - _thwack._

In the front room, Rocco goes rigid in his seat, as does Stirling. That was loud. There’s a tense few seconds before Stirling calls out to him.

“ _Henrik?_ You good, man?”

“ _Fine!_ Fine!” He shouts back, holding Chelsea’s hand, trying to sound chill as he helps her up. “Just -” Chelsea wobbles in his arms as he sits her down on the toilet. “Just tripped.”

Henrik's face falls, eyes screaming full blown panic as he looks at Chelsea’s busted lip. She frowns at him and goes to open her mouth but Henrik moves, fast as lightning, covering her mouth with his hand. Bad idea. Chelsea wails in pain, up against his palm. Henrik shushes her and she hushes him back, muffled.

The pair freeze as they hear the doorbell go.

 _Bang!_ And another firework.

“ _Shush_.” Henrik whispers.

“ _You_ shush.” She whispers back.

Back in the living room, Rocco’s trying his best to look totally inconspicuous. He glances at Stirling and then the door. And then Stirling. And the door again. Stirling. Door. He’s not moving.

“Dude.” Rocco sits up, eyes darting back and forth from his face to behind him. “Your door went.”

“Huh?” Stirling mumbles, not looking away from the TV.

“Your door.” He repeats.

The bell rings again.

“Fuck.” Stirling frowns, he lifts his sunglasses to look at his watch and puts them back down again. “The fuck is ringing my bell at this hour?”

He hauls himself out of his chair, padding to the front door. As soon as he makes it over the threshold to the hallway, Rocco leaps out of his seat, running to the back of the house. He knocks on the bathroom door three times before Henrik carefully opens it. 

“The fuck you doing, dude?” Rocco whispers quickly.

Henrik opens the door wider, revealing a bloody lipped Chelsea.

“I’m okay.” She mumbles, holding a wet flannel to her mouth.

“You -” He points to Henrik. “ _Go._ And you -” Rocco turns to Chelsea. “With me.”

  
  


**

  
  


**Hope, Lottie, Marisol**

_21:35_

“Aw.” Hope frowns. “I was kinda hoping he’d be a little later.”

“Why?” Marisol questions.

“It’s free after thirty minutes isn’t it? That’s still a thing right?”

Marisol glances down at the watch on her wrist.

“If the guys called it in when I think they did then, that’s actually pretty good service.”

“Gaz probably whined about the order for _at least_ a minute before calling.” Lottie laughs to herself.

“Nah,” Hope frowns, looking over at them. “Two minutes.”

“You think?”

“For sure.”

“Bet?” 

“Bet.”

Lottie and Hope shake hands.

“Should probably make a move now.” Marisol suggests, tapping her watch.

“Oh - shit, yeah.” Lottie nods.

  
  


**

  
  


**Henrik, Rocco**

_21:36_

Stirling’s still at the front door, conversing with now a very confused pizza delivery guy.

“Sorry, dude - this is what it says -” The delivery guys hold up a piece of paper, with Stirling’s address scribbled down on it. 

“I… definitely didn’t order a pizza.” He squints. He looks down at the joint still between his fingers. “Unless -”

“ _Hey!_ ” Henrik pops up behind him, bright and wide eyed. “Sorry, man.” He claps Stirling on the back. “I ordered pizza. My mistake.”

“When did you -” Stirling starts but gets cut off.

“How much do I owe you, man?” Henrik interrupts, fumbling for his wallet in his back pocket.

Rocco leads Chelsea through to another room, the same one where they saw Stirling disappear to earlier. It’s a little dingy and dark, the lights take their sweet time when Chelsea flicks them on. Shelves line the walls with bags, boxes, _scales_ , gloves - everything you need for this type of operation. A safebox sits at the bottom of one of the shelves, locked via padlock.

“Piece of cake.” Chelsea nods. She locks her fingers and stretches her arms outwards, causing her knuckles to crack.

Rocco’s jaw drops, in genuine surprise.

“I didn’t think that’d actually work.” She says, flexing her hands in disbelief.

She kneels down, pulling out some of the bobby pins holding up her hair. Carefully, she zips open her bum bag, taking out some tweezers, a torch and a pair of glasses. With steady hands, she slides on her glasses, puts the torch in between her teeth and gets to work. There’s a lot of fiddling and sighing from her end. Rocco watches the door, keeping his ears tuned to any kind of sound from the other room.

He can just about hear Stirling and Henrik talking as they close the front door on the pizza guy.

“What pizza you get?”

“Half sausage, half veggie.” Henrik answers.

Stirling stops in his tracks, in disbelief.

“Veggie?” He shakes his head. “Blasphemous. You don’t put vegetables on a pizza.”

“You do when that’s all you eat.”

“So, what’s the sausage for?”

“It’s -” He hesitates. “It’s for... _you_ , silly.” He says, grinning.

Stirling eyeballs him for what feels like his entire life. Henrik doesn’t take a single breath.

“Cool!” Stirling beams, taking the pizza box off him.

Rocco watches as they both go back into the living room. The sound of the TV starts up again, gunfire, screeching car tyres and classic rock blares out.

Then… there’s a familiar metallic, clicking sound. Success. Oh, sweet success. Rocco stares, excited, ready to come face to face with that sweet product. Chelsea drops the torch from her mouth and moves her hands away, only for the tweezers to fall apart, dropping to the floor. Damn it.

“ _Fuck_.” They both groan at the same time.

“You’re sure you can open this?” Rocco asks.

“Yes. _Yes._ ” She turns to look at him, angry. She scratches her head, trying to think. She puts the torch back in her mouth again, looking down to file through her bag again. “I need a fork.” She mumbles.

Rocco stares at her, confused.

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“A fork!” She repeats, taking the torch out of her mouth.

“ _Oh_ , a fork. Right. A fork.” He nods, hurried. “I thought you said something else -”

“Just _go_.” She smacks his leg.

“This is fucking crazy.” Rocco murmurs.

“It’s great, right?!” Chelsea whispers, watching him leave the room.

  
  


**

  
  


**Chelsea, Hope, Lottie, Marisol, Noah**

_21:40_

“Holy shit.” Hope whispers.

“I know.”

“Chels, holy shit.” Lottie gawks. “Is there any more?”

“Yes -” Her head disappears from the window for a second and reappears with two more bags. She lets them drop into Noah’s open arms. “That’s it.”

There’s at least… eight, nine or _ten_ pounds sitting on the ground in front of them right now. Vacuum sealed and ready for selling. Hope’s mouth is literally watering from the idea.

“We’re fucking rich.” Lottie mutters, unable to keep still.

Chelsea carefully engineers herself out the window again, closing it as the others hold her legs up for support. Her descent is a lot more graceful than earliers.

“Fucking rich!” Chelsea squeals as soon as her feet touch ground. 

High-fives all round.

Quickly, they gather the stash into their own bags and split off separately.

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby, Poppy**

_21:42_

Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ His legs are jelly, he can’t take another step. And if he’s sensing correctly, neither can she. 

Exhausted, they stop and pray that they haven’t been followed completely through the woods. They’re at the edge now, by a creek. It’s so dark and so quiet, that the stream sounds like a waterfall. Thunderous. But, Bobby can’t seem to hear anything much over his wheezes, trying to get his lungs to work again. He leans up against a tree, legs threatening to give out and collapse on the grass below. 

Now that they’re stopped he can actually see Poppy. She dumps the bag to the side, behind some bushes as he looks at her. Her legs are scratched up, hair wild and slightly pulled out of her ponytail. He looks down at his own legs, also completely scratched up. He notices blood starting to drip from the top of his knee. He remembers there being low branches and thistles and thorns, but only now can he feel the pain start to set in.

He’s about to open his mouth, to ask if she’s okay, when she freezes up. A striking ray of light moves past them, along with some rustling sounds.

_Shit._

She backs him up against the tree, hiding them both if they stand facing each other. And she does, so close that Bobby can feel her fast coming breaths on his cheek. He can see the bright white light of the incoming torch out the corner of his eye. Fuck. _Fuck._ Game over.

“Kiss me.” Poppy whispers, rushed.

Fucking _what_.

“ _What?_ ” He chokes out, eyes darting between hers.

His heart beats straight up into his throat, not like he has any other trouble breathing right now anyway. She doesn’t give him a second of warning, grabbing his face as the crunching footsteps come closer. 

And then she kisses him.

There’s a second of hesitation, but his mind goes blank. He can taste the cherry chapstick on her lips he’s craved for so long, not knowing he needed it against his own until now. His hands find the small of her back, as if it’s something familiar, as hers clasp around his face and pulling each other close. Her lips against his are so gentle. Soft and light, nothing like her normal fiery and teasing self. He should pull away, but he can’t.

The world slips away. He can’t feel the grass beneath his shoes anymore. Snatched and replaced with something else. Something completely new.

For a second she swears his lips taste sweet.

There’s a distinct “Ugh, _jesus -_ ” as the white flashlight shines over them, before moving away again, continuing on it’s path. “ _Teenagers._ ” Another person mutters.

As soon as the footsteps are out of earshot, the moment shatters, lips ripping apart with a loud wet noise. Everything comes crashing down, throwing them both back to reality. All those feelings he thought he put away are born fresh, ready to tug at his heart strings all over again. Bobby can feel the piercing shards of those a million pieces, straight through his chest.

She looks at him, dazed, as she wipes her mouth with her arm. He just stares as she reaches down to grab the bag and slings it onto her back.

“C’mon.” She huffs, nodding in a different direction.

Bobby touches his lips with the pads of his fingers, looking at the shiney chapstick she’s left behind in the dim moonlight. He looks up again, to see her walking away, getting sucked in by the darkness.

“Shit.” He mumbles.

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS....... LMAO omg this chapter is so long im SO SORRY..... my brain sfijdskg -it's fucking gone. WOW. no brain power. amazing.
> 
> backstory with a side order of angst anyone? anyone? 😩🥺
> 
> if u are an aspiring writer, already an litg ff writer or fan artist, there is a wonderful new subreddit r/LITGFanFiction!!! it's for bouncing ideas, venting and promoting work!! and even if you're not a writer, you can join anyways and talk about general litg fanfic! pls come and spread the love 💞💖💝
> 
> also, shamless twitter plug: @l0singface
> 
> BUT - most importantly, THANK U FOR READING (sorry about the long chapter again hehe)


	14. Was This Part Of The Plan?

**

  
  


It’s just gone 11 o’clock by the time Bobby recognises where they are again.

Before anything else, Poppy grabbed what was left of the fireworks, chucking them as hard as she could into the dark in front of them. They walked through the woods for… well, forever. And then some. The continuous stream of moss covered rocks and broken twigs underneath their feet was endless. They made it to the edge of a main road, lined with a few old street lamps and followed it southbound.

There’s nothing else they can do now but pray and hope that the job is done and the others are at least out of sight by now. He knows Ibrahim and Gary will be okay, they’re some of the strongest and fastest guys on the team. And he knows for sure that Lottie will be fine. There’s no way she mastered a whole plan without some kind of safeguard for herself. God. He really hopes Chelsea and Noah are fine. He hopes their shared stupidness hasn’t gotten them killed or something.

The night air is rapidly getting colder, so unlike a normal spanish evening. The chill is starting to make its way down to their bones, Poppy especially. Bobby can see her screwing her face up, unknowing she’s mentally cursing herself out for giving Noah her sweater. Well - Bobby’s sweater. Whatever.

He’s walking just a pace or so behind her, neither of them uttering a word to each other. Partly because if they were to get caught right now that’d really suck and the fact that there’s not much you can say after locking lips with your friend to avoid detection.

Well, he thinks of her as a friend. In complete denial about his own feelings as per usual.

The label I-really-fancied-you-and-probably-still-do-but-I-like-someone-else-now seems just a tad too long in his opinion.

As much as Bobby tries, nothing is distracting him from the fuzzy images of her kissing him playing on loop in his head. Then he’s rocked with the image of Priya frowning at him, gently unloading the bombshell about his dad before walking away. Back to Poppy kissing him. And then Priya again. Poppy. Priya. Kiss. Walking off.

He’s trying to not make the kiss a big deal in his head. Like, it’s not necessarily something normal to happen between mates, is it? But it still happened. So, he’s going to take every ounce in him to downplay it as much as possible. Even though it happened, maybe, an hour ago, he can’t see it as crystal clear as he can normally recollect things. He mostly blames it on the dark. And the sheer ludicrousy of it all.

It’s more like a _feeling_ than anything else. The forceful but terrified way she backed him up to the tree and how he bumped his head on the coarse bark behind him, not realising it actually kinda hurt until now. How his heart leapt up into his throat as she whispered so close to his face. Her hands cupping his cheeks and his hands on her back. How her lips tasted. 

His heart is beating as rapidly as it was at the time.

Ugh. It’s all messing with his head. If this happened, maybe, a month ago he’d be in seventh heaven. He’d be floating right now, not walking.

Okay. Scratch that previous label. It is definitely I-really-fancied-you-and- _absolutely_ -still-do-but-I-like-someone-else-now.

He really… _really_ likes that someone else.

His chest does that painful constricting thing that seems to be happening to him a lot lately. Oh, Priya _._ Bobby can’t help but think this is bound to be setting them up for devastation. Surely. They’re not together but… they are, on some kind of level. Not exactly exclusive but not exactly dating. Nor are they… _y’know,_ like Noah would put it. But, to everyone else they’re together at least. 

Of course the time they have their first tiff is when something Poppy related gets thrown into the mix. Timing couldn’t be more perfect.

He wants to talk to Priya about things. He wants to tell her things about his life. He wants to tell her about his father. He does. But, the very idea of stepping into that darkness again, that consumed him for the better part of 2 years is gut wrenching. So many times he was outgunned by his own thoughts of despair and miserable feelings, pushed to the point of constant tears that only his mother could wipe away.

That darkness is his own, something that he can’t seem to let out of his clutches and run free for someone else to see. Scared shitless that if he ever exposes those moments in his life to anyone else that they’re going to see him for the full person he actually is and leave. Or worse, try to fix it.

It’s so ugly. He doesn’t want to tarnish Priya's beautiful mind and spirit with something so ugly. What they have right now is really nice. He likes her and she likes him back. He doesn’t want to risk losing that, not even realising that maybe he is.

So caught up in his thoughts, Bobby just about catches himself from walking straight into Poppy’s back as she halts. His shoes scrape against some broken glass on the pavement. He looks up to see the old dingy sign of the arcade.

“The arcade?” He says, watching Poppy unlock the door. 

She looks back at him and nods. “It’s safe.” She mumbles before going inside.

Unsure, he turns, looking down to the end of the street behind him where Priya had walked away hours ago. As clear as day, he can see her face and the storm brewing in her eyes. He scrubs a hand over his burning face, forcing the tears threatening to at the corners of his eyes to subside, like it’s happening all over again. He’s not sure what it is but he can feel himself almost leaning forward, one of his feet beginning to lift up and threatening to take a step. 

He really wants to talk to her. But he has no idea how.

So, he follows Poppy inside, like he’s done so many times now. She’s a bad habit that he can’t seem to change. They squint as she flicks the lights on, fluorescent beams overhead, spilling into all the corners of the room.

“We can hide out here.” Poppy says, throwing the bag to the floor. 

Bobby carefully sets the radio on the table in the middle of the room.

“Was this part of the plan?” Bobby frowns, kneeling down to look at Lottie’s notes. 

Her handwriting is barely legible, just a bunch of elongated swirls and squiggles that are somehow supposed to be words. She clearly was in a hurry or just has awful handwriting. A little doodle of an owl and what Bobby thinks is a pentagram sits in the corner of the page. Poppy sits on the sofa across the room, kicking off her trainers and sighing up at the ceiling as she digs her thumb into the sole of her foot.

“I think the furthest Loz got with the distraction plan was, and I quote -” She holds up her hands and starts air quoting. “ _Run as fast as you fucking can.”_

“Ay. Sounds about right.” Bobby sighs, sitting on the ground next to the table.

Poppy gets up and heads over to the fridge, pulling out some of the remaining beers still stocked. The glass clinking together sounds so far away to him. Tired, Bobby stares down at the ground, fiddling with his laces before slipping his trainers off. He sighs deeply, as if he’s just removed weights from himself.

He grabs the bandana still tied around his head, pulling it between his fists and looking at it in his hands. It’s soaked in sweat and grime and dust. His dreads flop back in front of his eyes. Bobby doesn’t realise Poppy’s made her way over to him until she gently kicks his arm with her foot.

Silently, she raises her eyebrows, holding out one of the beers. He takes it from her, mumbling a thanks. He sees Poppy hesitate for a second, deciding whether she wants to sit on the sofa again, but she opts for sitting opposite on the other side of the table.

She rests the lip of her bottle against the table angled slightly, sitting the edge of the cap on top of the corner. With a forceful smack, she brings her hand down on top of it and the bottle cap goes flying off. It’s like a magic trick. Bobby looks at his own bottle and then back to her. She nods at his bottle encouragingly, silently telling him to do it too.

Miraculously, he does it on the first try, surprising himself. The froth against his lips as he takes the first sip is like a cold but comforting blanket, enveloping him even more when the golden liquid runs down his throat. So very needed.

There’s a weird stillness to the air. Bobby stares at the wall and Poppy at the ground as they take an occasional swig of their drinks. His stomach is in knots, all of his thoughts disconnected from one another, mind threatening to push him into that abyss he can’t deal with right now. And then, a hand reaches out, in the shape of Poppy’s voice, pulling him back to the light and into the present as she starts talking.

“You’re thinking loud.” Poppy murmurs, softly.

He turns to look at her, eyes landing on her confused ones. It’s not often he sees her lips curled down into a frown. It doesn’t look right on her.

“Huh?” 

She points to her own forehead, in reference to his own. “You’re scowling. And I can hear your teeth grinding from here.”

Huh. And that he was. His face relaxes a little, feeling the relief in his molars as they start to ache, in a forgiving kind of way.

“Are you okay?” She finally asks.

Oh. The hand lets go and he starts falling, quick. Those three wicked words that always have such an easy time unravelling the guard he tries to put up so often. Though meant to be helpful and a sign of worry, Bobby hated them. Every single time they made him come undone, breaking the barriers.

It’s all he heard after his father passed. Along with sympathetic smiles and gentle hands on shoulders, it was always followed by those despicable words. No. He’s _not_ okay. Who the hell is okay after losing their father. Bobby hated it. _Hated, hated, hated._ And still does to this day.

The day of the funeral was tough. As expected. Slow like rural Glasgow life but just as sharp and cold like the rain. Bobby had never seen so much family, aunties, uncles, cousins and even more claiming to be them. He’d met his nan and paps a handful of times, always with wide eyes as they told him enchanting stories about their home. But, never having the opportunity to go to Jamaica often left him confused, feeling like he wasn't his true self having never met his father’s extended family. And when he did it was on the worst possible day of his life. It was overwhelming, in a way, nice knowing his father was so loved but heartbreaking that so many had lost a loved one.

It only highlighted how small his mother’s family actually was. Beth stood at the front of course, Bobby and Emily by her side. Her family only blended into the background, somewhere at the side. Just Beth’s parents and her sister, dressed as bleak as the day itself. And her new boyfriend at the time, Terry, way further back in the crowd. Complete opposite to the masses of traditional splashes of colour in the carribeans clothing. 

The wake is so vivid in Bobby’s mind. It was a celebration of life, rather than a mourning of death. He remembers standing in the kitchen of their old family home, surrounded by piping hot food and many chatting mouths ready to eat. It was a feast. Goat curry, white rice and beans, ackee and saltfish. And many, _many_ plates of perfectly fried plantain.

Emily was in the middle of a story, the first time Bobby had even cracked a smile all day. His sister was often good at providing comfort in the worst times. And then, a soft but firm hand landed on his shoulder, beautifully decorated with huge decadent rings. He turned to see his mother’s sister Katherine, smiling down at him. She pinched his cheek before opening her mouth.

“How are you kids doing?” She directed to both him and Emily, voice so delicate and worried.

Emily just shrugged, obviously hurting but feeling good to be surrounded by so much family in a time like this. Being the older sibling, Emily always had an answer. Trying her best to protect Bobby. Katherine offered some support then, telling her family is important in a time like this. She squeezed Bobby’s shoulder before turning her attention solely to him.

“And you, darling. How are you? Are you okay?”

Bobby just stared. No idea why, but he did. Frozen with his mouth slightly hanging open, no idea how to reply. Those words kept repeating in his head, drilling into him, never been so affected by a simple question before. No, he wasn’t okay. But, the light and hopefulness in his aunt’s eyes was pleading almost, as if she was asking to say that he _was_ okay.

Ever since then, he can’t hear those words without experiencing what that day had given him. Or, more appropriately, had taken away.

And sometimes, that wasn’t even the worst of it. It's the fact that he had to play along in this little charade, a performance almost. People knew that he wasn’t okay, quite obvious to the family and close friends how much Bobby admired and adored and loved his father. Of course it was going to hit him the hardest. And yet they expected him to put on a strong smile, to be that silly little sunny scottish boy that they were all so used to. If he showed them any rain clouds, it was hard for anyone to provide any kind of shelter.

So, he did what he could, brushing off the concern and replacing it with something else. It wasn’t exactly healthy but it’s the only thing his adolescent brain could deal with at the time. Why experience upset when joy exists, even if it is fake.

But, he can’t seem to feign that he’s alright now. 

The weight of everything is pushing down on him, accelerating at a rate that he can’t seem to fight. Looking down at his hands again, he twists the bandana in his fists, watching the red fabric pinch and fold before letting it drop to the ground. His face starts to grow hot, blood going cold in his veins as everything overwhelms him. Those dark, stormy clouds arrive.

Poppy puts her bottle on the table, resting her hands in her lap, eyes focused on his. Bobby is frozen, watching her as they stay quiet, realising she’s giving him her full attention. The walls are closing in and he can feel everything start to well up. Something flickers over her face when she realises what’s happening, watching his eyes go glassy and shoulders slump. He’s never seen her look so concerned before, so sad it looks like she’s experiencing the same pain he is.

The devil has it’s foot on the porch of Bobby’s mind, with him in it’s sights.

“I -” He shakes his head, face burning hot, no longer able to fight it anymore. “I don’t -” His throat closes up as the beginnings of tears start to flow.

Poppy’s up in a flash, walking over and dropping to her knees next to him. Her arm around his shoulders is hesitant at first, but as soon as he grabs her, cries muffled against her shoulder, she wraps around him and squeezes tight. He doesn’t know why he grabs her, but he knows if he doesn’t ground himself he’ll keep falling and falling.

“Hey, hey -” Her voice is so delicate, anxiety laced between each word. “I - Bobby, I didn’t mean to -”

Everything comes pouring out, likes he’s flooding. He’s holding onto her so tight he can’t feel the blood flow in his fingers, scared if he lets go he’ll slip straight off the edge of the earth. His sobs are broken, interrupted as he tries to fight for air. He can feel Poppy rake her hand through his hair, cradling the back of his head.

“I’m sorry,” He says between gulping breaths. " _I’m sorry -_ ”

He can’t hear much, pressed up so close to Poppy’s body even his own cries sound muffled. But, he can feel a sweet hum in her chest, so she must be saying something, along with the gentle hand rubbing his back. He didn’t realise how much had been bottled up, as the waterworks continue to rip out of him, unexpected and loud.

The room is consumed by Bobby’s weeping, silence slicing in between when he takes a breath. Without an inkling of what to do, Poppy just stays there, squeezing him tight and not easing off. There’s nothing else she can do but hold him, tears brimming at the edges of her own eyes, trying to understand what’s going on. His shaking eventually stops, but the tears are still wet and hot against her shirt, soaking through into her skin. 

“It’s alright.” She murmurs, gently stroking over his hair, twisting a dread between her fingers. She can still smell the wax from the other day. “It’s alright. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.” He sighs. She can barely hear his voice but can feel it shaking.

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Please don’t be sorry.”

The crying subsides into sniffling after a while, tears still burning hot and streaming down his face. By the time he finally lets go, his hands are shaking, blood racing to get back into his fingers. She feels him pull away from her shoulder, the wet patch instantly running cold as he takes his body heat with him.

He can’t look at her face, embarrassment and confusion continuing to race through him. The remnants of tears slide and drop off the end of his eyelashes, like dew hanging onto blades of grass early in the mornings. 

All he can feel is her hand on the back of his head, sliding down to gently squeeze his shoulder and fall back into her lap. Finally he looks up at her and when their eyes meet Poppy’s go comically wide, jaw hanging.

“Oh my days, you’re bleeding -”

Bobby looks down at the cut on his knee, confused. “Ah, it’s fine. I think it’s already scabbing up -”

“No, no -” She shuffles away from him, panicking. “Your _nose_ is bleeding.”

Bobby looks at her properly then, landing on the blood smeared on her shirt and clinging to the ends of her curls. The tense moment is ripped apart, turning into full blown panic instead. Bobby is thankful almost, not even sure what to say about his sudden breakdown. 

Timid almost, he touches his upper lip, swiping up the blood, only for it to get replaced again as his nose begins to run faster. Poppy’s already halfway across the room, running to the counters lined on the wall near the door, where the old concession stand used to be. He tilts his head to the ceiling, holding his shirt up to his nose and willing for it to go away.

_Damn it, not again._

Bobby stares up at the fairy lights hanging on the rafters, listening to cupboards and drawers getting ransacked as Poppy searches frantically for whatever can help. If he squints his eyes just right the lights turn into blurry lines, criss crossing all over his vision, melting into the dark behind them.

Soon enough Poppy pops up, her face and hair backlight by the lights above. Flickers of orange and yellow outline her like a halo. Devil no longer on his mind, replaced with an angel.

A little first aid kit sits in her hands, looking old as time itself. He accepts the copious amounts of gauze and tissue she passes over, holding it up to his nose. She sits by his side, poking through whatever else is in the kit while Bobby stares absently into space holding the gauze to his nose. He looks over at her after a few minutes, heart sinking to see she’s already looking at him. Her lips are turned up, struggling to hold back a smile.

“What?” He asks, amused though annoyed at his current form.

“You look like shit.” She shakes her head, unable to hold her laugh in anymore and cracks up.

Fuck sake. Bobby tries not to laugh, but her giggles are too infectious to not join in too. Their hysterics bounce off the walls, echoing through the building, bright and happy. Poppy sighs deeply as she calms down again, smiling at him.

“Thank you.” He says.

“No worries.” She shrugs.

They reel in the silence for a minute. Everything is happening at once and quickly, neither of them know what to say.

“I always feel daft after crying.” Bobby murmurs.

“Hey - nothing wrong with crying.” Poppy shakes her head at him, words stern. “Don’t feel stupid for showing emotion.”

Slowly, Bobby pulls the blood soaked gauze away from his nose, wincing slightly. He rubs his nostrils with the back of his hand, crusted blood flaking off and sticking to his skin. So gross.

“You get a lot of nosebleeds?” Poppy questions, frowning down at his hand.

“No -” His brows pinch together, confused as she is. “I used to. When I was younger.”

"You're still young."

"I'm sixteen." He defends.

"A wee bah-bee." She mimics his accent, earning a smack on the arm.

He glares at her but can't stop himself from smirking when she grins back.

“Could be a stress thing.” Poppy offers.

“Mm.” He exhales deeply. “Could be.”

Poppy pinches her shirt where it’s soaked in blood and salty tear water. A beautiful combination.

“I look like I’ve been shot.” She mumbles.

“I _feel_ like I’ve been shot.” 

Bobby’s all but in a great state right now. Bloodshot, tired eyes with tear stained cheeks and blood all down his mouth and shirt collar. A real sight to behold. Poppy snorts, looking at him again. Jesus, what a rollercoaster. To lighten the mood, she takes his beer off the table and pushes it into his hand. Worth a shot.

“Finish it.” She chimes.

“I’m alright -”

“Finish. It.” She grabs his hand, pushing the bottle towards his mouth.

He side eyes her for a second, but her smile doesn’t falter the slightest. So he rolls his eyes and - whatever. Fine. This won’t be the worst solution to his problems but it might help. She tips the bottle up again and he starts to drink as it sloshes into his mouth. 

“Down it, down it, down it -” She sings to herself. “Down it _fresher._ ”

Bobby sputters and grabs the bottle from her when she tips it too high, beer spilling down his front.

“Better?” She asks, grinning.

“Ace.”

“Sure?”

He knows she’s not asking about the nosebleed. Or the beer. Tip-toeing around whatever the hell his outburst was. It’s nice that she cares but still kind of awkward. Bobby tries to play it down, nodding eagerly as he purses his lips. She doesn’t buy it though, she’s not dumb. _Of course she’s not dumb._ He never knows how she reads him so well. Another one of her magic tricks.

“I’m fine _._ ” He uses his words this time.

“When people say they’re _fine_ , they’re not fine.”

“But I am.”

“I’ve been _fine_ plenty of times. You can tell me things y’know, mate.”

“Thank you,” Bobby searches for more words but Poppy helps him out before he starts floundering too much.

“You don’t have to.” She adds, quickly. “Just know that you can.”

Bobby smiles again, genuinely touched by her words. Her roaming eyes feel almost violating as she studies his face all over, trying to read him again. Bobby is trying his best to put on a poker face, but he’s pretty sure he looks constipated.

“It’s really nothing. I’ve just... Priya -” He pauses, catching himself. “I’m… I’m just a bit all over the place.”

Poppy nods.

“C’mon -” She picks up the bandana on the ground, wrapping it around his head again and ties it tight enough to sweep his dreads back from his eyes again. “Time to pick that chin up.”

“Ugh. The only thing I want to do right now is change.” He groans, taking the last swig of the beer.

“There are worse things to be covered in, to be honest.”

Choking, Bobby fumbles with the bottle, beer spraying out. Poppy lets out a shocked yelp, covering her mouth.

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” She hollers.

“ _You_ made the joke!” Bobby talks to the ground. He puts the bottle back on the table, feeling his face going red for what feels like the 100th time this evening. Jesus. Give him a break.

"Did you not like the joke? I wasn't talking about spunk."

"Please, don't say spunk."

“Why?”

“Because -”

“ _Spunk!_ ” She shouts up at the ceiling.

“Shush!” He flails his hands about dramatically. Poppy rolls her eyes. “Someone could hear you.”

If they were to get caught now because of the word spunk, it would just be downright shameful for both parties.

Poppy arches an eyebrow at him, skeptical. “Does it make you uncomfortable when I talk about sex?” She laughs.

“ _No._ ” Yes.

He’s not uncomfortable in the sense that sex grosses him out or embarasseses or anything. Just that the very idea of talking about sex with a girl he’s definitley interested in romantically probably won’t bode well for him, mentally. Even if he is aware of it or not. It is bad enough seeing her half-naked the majority of the time, but now knowing what her lips taste of is like the cherry on top of a cake layered with disaster.

And not only that, but, knowing that Priya is off somewhere, completely in the dark to everything that has happened tonight. She’s going to hate him and he knows it. He’s a boy caught between his head and his dick. Classic.

“It’s okay to be embarrassed.” Poppy walks over to the fridge, grabbing herself another drink.

“I’m _not_.”

“You are sweating like a nun in a cucumber field.”

“ _Poppy._ ”

“What? Prossie in a church just isn’t as funny.”

“Always the angel, you are.”

“Pfft. Angel.” She sits down again, opening the bottle like last time. _Smack._ “If I’m an angel that makes you Saint George.”

Bobby gasps, clutching his chest. He looks a little crazy, Eyes red rimmed, matching his bloody nose.

“In the name of the wee man! How _dare_ you -”

“Excuse me? In the name of _who?_ ” Poppy’s eyes dance with amusement, laughing hysterically. “I don’t know the scottish saint! Is it David?”

“No!”

“Patrick?”

“You’re proper winding me up now -”

“Who’s the other guy?”

“Andrew! Bloody hell. Saint Andrew.”

“ _Oooh_ , Andew! Yes, yes.” She points at him, still giggling at how irate he looks. “Yes. I remember him now.”

Bobby sucks his teeth, not as entertained. 

“So.” Poppy taps her fingers on the table. “Speaking of saints. Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.” He says. 

Bobby watches her fiddle with her bottle for a second, tapping her nails on the glass, sparking little tinkling sounds.

“Is… Priya okay?” Poppy finally asks.

Bobby tenses.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” She shakes her head, realising how dumb that sounds. “One reason.” She corrects. “We - I saw her walking home when the guys and I were making our way to the arcade earlier today and -” She pauses, table holding her gaze. “I don’t know. She looked kinda annoyed. Upset. And I’ve never seen her like that before.”

Fuck. Of course someone else had to see her walking off.

“We had a… moment. Not a nice one, mind. She went home.”

“Fair.” She figures to not press any further. “Happens to couples all the time.” As much as she tries to sound reassuring, she doesn’t sound so sure.

“I don’t think we’re a couple. Yet.”

“You’re together all the time.”

“And?”

“So. You’re not her boyfriend?”

“You’re always with Rocco.” He says, quickly. “Does that make Rocco your boyfriend?” 

Bobby’s not sure where the hell that counter came from but it’s left field enough to make Poppy choke on her drink. Foam comes out of her nose and Bobby tries to not look too smug about it. The little jab feels good. He knows Rocco isn’t her boyfriend. The same way that he knows that 1 + 1 equals 2 and that it snows in Scotland during winter. Pure facts.

“Rocco, jesus fuck -” She keeps coughing. “He’s barely even committed to a hairbrush.”

“Trouble in paradise?” 

“No… I, just -” She shakes her head after she regains some kind of composure, putting her drink on the table. “Can’t do boyfriends. We’re just screwing around.”

“Speaking from experience?” Bobby asks, genuinely intrigued.

Poppy eyeballs him, then her drink before meeting his eyes again. He can’t see but she’s ringing her hands together under the table top.

“The boyfriends or the sex part?” She goes for the joke instead. Bobby laughs, surprised.

“The boyfriends.” He probes.

“You don’t wanna hear that stuff.”

“You’re no fun.” He whines.

"I'm just not telling." She leans forward, folding her arms on the table. "It wouldn't be fair to the other guys." She pouts.

"Ah, no." Bobby leans forward too. "Are they here?"

Poppy plays along, craning her neck and looking around the empty room. Bobby laughs as she whips around, looking worried for a moment. The light catches her jaw and runs down to her neck. Her eyelashes are backlit, looking huge and luscious. It makes his insides tingle.

"You can never be too careful." She wipes her brow with the back of her hand, acting flustered. “Spanish boys.” She shakes her head, with a sulk. “So sensitive.”

"Is that because you've slept with half of Spain?"

"Hey!" She explodes in a loud laugh. “Bold of you.”

“Kidding!”

“It’s actually two thirds of Spain.” She nods before breaking out into a grin when he laughs again.

Unable to hold in a yawn, Poppy stretches her arms towards the ceiling, fingers dancing in the air. Bobby can feel his own yawn bubbling up, just looking at her. Finally the exhaustion is setting in and the conversation is definitely burning out. Poppy takes a breath and stalks over to the sofa. She rummages around between the cushions and under the arms rests until she exclaims a loud “A- _ha!_ ” when her hands emerges with a semi-crushed box of cigarettes.

“I’m gonna smoke.” She says. “You should sleep.” She points to the sofa.

“I’m okay.”

“C’mon. You must feel like roadkill by now.”

Bobby can’t argue with that. He can practically feel the bags under his eyes beginning to form and drag him down. Poppy just points to the sofa again, not saying anything else before making her way outside.

God, he really didn’t realise how much he needs sleep until he lies down. His muscles sing a sweet lullaby, finally relaxed. And for the first time all day his consciousness is quiet. Quickly, his mind begins to spiral into a free fall, descending into dreamland.

No more darkness.

Just sweet, blissful unawareness.

Pure perfect.

  
  


**

  
  


Bobby’s eyes are greeted with a hazy glow upon waking again. He doesn’t recognise where he is for a second, shooting up as well as his heart rate and adrenaline. His brain quickly sheds the sleep away, his surroundings making more sense now. He rubs at his eyes, dreams melting away from his memory. And then the pain sets in. Everything aches. Bones. Brain. Bollocks. It’s like a hangover but way more agonizing and exhausting.

The room is still kind of dark, lights off with streams of sun trying to make its way through the dirty windows. He has no idea how long he’s been asleep and no idea what time it is. Poppy’s not anywhere to be seen. A light breeze rattles the door, as if leading to where she is.

Quietly, he makes his way over, peeping through the open gap. Immediately he finds Poppy sitting on the edge of the pavement outside, chin resting on her knees. She’s not looking at anything in particular, soaking up the early morning sun as it starts to rise. Everything is casting long shadows, painting black stripes in between faint yellows and oranges. The wind picks up for a few seconds, fanning her hair out like pages of a book.

His heart skips. Once and then twice. 

Frowning, Poppy stubs a half-finished cigarette out on the ground, twisting it until it fizzles out. The rest of it crumbles in her hand as she forces it into the concrete, tobacco spilling out the split paper. It looks like a private moment, between Poppy and whatever’s on her mind. He can’t exactly tell, from his own cloudy, tired eyes, but he thinks he can see a little red rim around her own. He’s trapped in place, impossible for him to take his gaze off her and wonder what she’s thinking about. And why her eyes are puffy.

Just as he’s about to take a step away, and leave her be, she mumbles something incoherent before resting her forehead on her knees. She groans loudly before tilting her head to the sky.

“You _twat_.” She says to herself again, just loud enough for Bobby to catch it this time.

Not wanting to intrude any longer, he takes a few steps back and makes a fuss of being as loud as possible, prepping Poppy for his sudden entrance. The door bursts open and Bobby watches as Poppy rockets up in shock, scrubbing a hand over her face quickly.

“Hey.” He plops down beside her, landing a bit too forceful on his tailbone. Gah. More aching.

“Hey.” She plasters on one of those cheerleader smiles. But it doesn’t match her eyes. “You’re awake.”

“Alive and kicking.” He confirms. “Though every muscle in my body is screaming at me.”

“You’ll survive.” Poppy mumbles. Silently, she holds out the carton of cigarettes to him. He politely shakes his head and declines.

“Nah, I’m alright. Cheers, though.”

“Wish I could say the same.” She sighs. “I need to quit.”

“Then quit.” He shrugs.

“Tried. Lost cause.”

“You’re not a lost cause.”

“ _Beyond_ a lost cause.” She laughs.

Bobby grabs the carton from her hand and without a second thought, scrunches it up in his fist, until the cigarettes are completely crushed and falling apart. Poppy watches as they litter the ground, bewildered like he’s just punched a baby right in front of her.

“There.” He brushes his hands together, looking at the mess next to their shoes. “That’s step one.”

“You… monster.” She chokes, placing a hand on her chest.

“It’s for your own good.”

“And I’m already regretting it.”

“Well,” He exhales, staring into the sun in front of them. “Someone’s gotta look out for you too, eh?”

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head and keeping her eyes fixated in front of them. The silence between them is content. They’re sitting so close, electricity thrumming at the surface of their skin. Bobby’s body is practically tingling, hyper aware of her thigh next to his, hairs standing on end. A breeze picks up one of her curls again, grazing it against his forearm, soft as a kittens kiss.

“Thank you, Bobby.” She mutters, looking over at him.

He stares into her open brown eyes, trying to read her face like she does with his so damn well. Curiosity danced between them, silent questions weaved in between. She doesn’t say anything else. She gives him a small smile tugging at the smile of her lips, as dazzling as the sun itself before she turns back to look at the sky. 

He feels safe for the first time in some time, under Poppy’s warm, bright light.

He is well and truly fucked.

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo lovelies!
> 
> i have been spending all week listening to the vaccines and crying, wishing i was a teenager again. ah man. 
> 
> this was a bit of a slow one, but lord, i love writing chapters just between two characters. especially these two!!
> 
> if you are an aspiring writer, already an litg ff writer or fan artist, there is a wonderful new subreddit r/LITGFanFiction!!! it's for bouncing ideas, venting and promoting work!! and even if you're not a writer, you can join anyways and talk about general litg fanfic! pls come and spread the love 💞💖💝
> 
> come talk to me on twitter @l0singface !! i draw things !!!
> 
> and thank you sooo much for reading!!


	15. Phase Three: The Bum and The Cherry

**

  
  


“Bet I can hit that stop sign.”

“What? There’s no way you can make that shot.”

“I can make that shot.”

“Impossible.”

“I’m offended you’re not confident in my abilities.”

“It’s like ten feet away!” Poppy laughs, gesturing towards it.

The sky is no longer a hazy amber but a calming lavender merging into the familiar bright blue. Seagulls are out on the hunt for discarded food and scraps. They swoop and dive from the air, targeting whatever sustenance they can find on the ground. 

No longer sitting on the ground, Bobby and Poppy are having a little target practise of their own. They’re perched up on the brick wall, entertaining themselves as they whip and throw stones at random objects around them and talking nonsense.

Bobby feels refreshed. Like there is electricity in the air.

“I’m telling you I can make the shot.” Bobby raises an eyebrow at her.

Poppy doesn’t look too sure but her smile is playful. She points at the sign again, challenging him, before sitting back and crossing her arms. Bobby reels his arm back, stone in his fist and takes the apparently impossible shot. A satisfying _ting_ sound echoes loudly as it bounces off the sign post. Bullseye. Poppy gawks before laughing at him when he throws his hands in the air to celebrate.

Just as Bobby is about to open his mouth, smugness all over his face, a beat up red pick-up truck turns into the road. Bobby stiffens up, clearly looking worried. No one ever drives through here, it’s practically a ghost town. Poppy on the other hand deflates a little, recognising it straight away. They both watch as it pulls up and parks on the opposite side of the street. Not until the person is in the middle of crossing the road does Bobby recognise them.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Hey, Rocco.” Poppy smiles up at him, dropping the rock in her hand to the ground. 

Rocco grins and stops in front of them, adjusting the rucksack on his shoulder and pushing his sunglasses up to sit on his head. He looks tired. Maybe he had a late night too. As soon as he gets a good look at them both, he frowns hard. 

“Jesus - did you guys get in a brawl?” He asks.

Bobby looks down at the blood on his shirt, then the bruises and cuts on his legs. Oh yeah, that. He touches his face, where his tear stains once were. He looks over to see Poppy doing the same, clearly having forgotten what kind of state they’re still in. Her shirt is stained with his blood still, dark and almost brown now. Some still sits on the ends of her hair, all crusted up. They both look like a wreck.

“I won. Poppy’s terrible at fighting.” Bobby says, casually. Poppy laughs, surprised.

“What? I could take you.” She plays along 

“In your dreams.”

“You wouldn’t last _one_ round with me.” She emphasizes as she holds a finger up, laughing.

Bobby can feel a flush working it's way up his chest. Was that a joke? A dirty joke? Jesus. His cock stirs at the idea and he has to internally shout at himself to chill the fuck out.

Poppy waves off Rocco’s concerned expression when he raises his eyebrows at them, still not getting an answer. “We’re fine. All in a night's work. How was Stirling?”

“Oblivious.” Rocco nods, impressed, thinking back on it. “Didn’t suspect a thing. His energy was all over the place, I couldn’t place his aura at all. I don’t think he even knew Henrik and I were in the house half the time.”

Energy? Aura? Bobby internally rolls his eyes.

“And the haul?” Poppy asks.

Rocco holds up his hands excited. He slings the rucksack to his front, unzipping it and holding it open. There’s a few pounds in there. Bobby knows fuck all about drugs, but it looks like a lot. Poppy peers in, leaning forward slightly. Her face turns into pure elation, like she’s looking at diamonds. 

“Shit.” She mumbles. She keeps staring at it, not blinking.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Rocco mumbles, looking down into the bag as well. “And that’s not even half of it.”

“Fuck, really?” Poppy sits back on the wall.

“Lottie has a good amount. And Marisol and Hope. They want to celebrate tonight. Phase three or whatever Lottie called it.”

“Wicked!” Poppy grins. “One of Mars’ dinners?”

“Oh, yes. Whole shebang. Dress to impress.” Rocco nods. “How was your end? Sounded like a whole party outside the house.”

“We were fine. Had some… minor difficulties.” Poppy answers, glancing over too quick for Bobby to catch her eye. “But we didn’t get caught.”

“Sick. So glad it worked.” Rocco pauses, looking at their clothes again, realising they're in the same outfits from yesterday. “Did... you guys stay here last night?”

There’s an uneasy pause that lasts a second too long.

“Too risky going back into town.” Poppy says, keeping her eyes on Rocco.

“Figured it would be safer here than going home.” Bobby adds.

Understanding, Rocco just nods again. “Speaking of,” He gestures behind him with his thumb. “You guys want a lift home?”

Bobby practically moans at the suggestion. Poppy has to hold back her snort. 

“Yes, god yes.” Bobby stands up. “My legs are dying.”

“Sweet, lemme just stash this away and I’ll take you.” Rocco pats the bag and makes his way inside.

Poppy waits until he’s past the double doors to speak up again.

“I could so take you in a brawl.” She turns to face Bobby. She says it so genuinely and without hesitation that Bobby can’t help but huff out a laugh.

“Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that.”

“I could! Just because you’ve gotten -” She waves a hand up and down at him. “Bigger, doesn’t mean I couldn’t take you in a fight.”

Bobby looks down at himself for a second, like he’s not aware of his own body. She’s right, he has filled out a little since they’ve met. The combination of exercise and the summer growth spurt does a body good. He’s in no way a Gary or Ibrahim, but he’s not as skinny anymore. No longer that scrawny kid looking back at him in the mirror all those weeks ago.

“This is your doing.” He plucks his shirt. “If you didn’t get me out on the water every morning I wouldn’t be the muscle bound freak you see before you!” He teases as he executes a strongman pose.

Poppy’s laugh is so bright and warm, Bobby swears he could bathe in it.

“You crack me right up.” She says, a small smile on her face.

“I live to entertain.” He folds one arm to his stomach and outstretches the other. He bows theatrically, bending all the way down which just makes Poppy laugh even more.

“Oh, well -” She stands as well, pinching the air by her hips, giving him a dainty curtsey. “I’m flattered.”

“Anything for a lady.” 

“A lady?” Poppy raises her eyebrows at him. “Oh, sir, you must be sorely mistaken.” She smirks, giving him a quick wink.

Bobby stutters out a laugh, hands falling to his sides. Oh, jesus. Abort. Flirting? _Really?_ He internally kicks himself. His body heats up so quickly, like, embarrassingly quickly. A simple wink should not have that type of power over a person. He doesn’t even think he’d react like this if he ever jumped into the damn sun. 

Luckily for him, a saviour in the shape of Rocco walks out the door before Bobby tries to reply as his throat starts to close up.

“You guys all set?” Rocco asks, locking up the door.

Poppy looks at Bobby, then at the truck. Bobby frowns, looking at the truck himself and back at her again. She’s got that little dangerous smile on her face. Just like when she broke into the arcade for the first time.

“Shotgun!” They yell at the same time. Poppy widens her eyes and stares at him, shocked, like Bobby’s just somehow read her mind.

“Oof.” Rocco huffs, walking past them and to the truck. “Too close to tell.”

“Bum or cherry?” Poppy directs to Bobby, tilting her head.

Bobby blinks at her. Huh.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Bum or cherry!” She laughs, throwing her arms up.

“I have no idea what you’re going on about.”

"How sheltered are you, exactly?"

"Shut up."

Poppy points to her chin. 

“I’m gonna guess your chin. If I win, I get shotgun. If I lose I forfeit the holy passenger seat to you.” She gestures behind her.

“How generous of you. I don’t get to choose your chin?”

“I mean, if you choose instead, the odds are still fifty fifty.”

“I can work with those odds.”

Poppy crosses her arms, looking at him intently for a few seconds. He tries not to stare into her eyes, knowing he’ll probably end up looking like a dopey melt. He feels naked under her gaze almost, like she’s holding a hot white flashlight over a petri dish he’s desperately trying to scramble out of. She steps closer and before he can take another breath she gently holds the sides of his chin between her thumb and pointer finger.

“I think you’re a bum.”

“Rude.” Bobby replies, smiling.

They’re so close, he could count her eyelashes if he wanted to. And he does, so badly. That blazing heat in his face comes back, tenfold. Gently, she squeezes her fingers together and the skin reveals a little crease down the middle of his chin. 

Poppy grins. “Knew it.”

Rocco honks his horn and shouts something incoherent out the window. Quickly, she drops her hand as they startle back from each other. A blush quickly sweeps up her neck to her cheeks, realising she’s been caught out in her own flirting. Well. He thinks she’s flirting. God, some sick part of Bobby is praying that she is. Poppy flashes Bobby an apologetic smile with wide eyes, looking like a deer in the headlights. That chill and laid back persona of hers is crumbling right before his eyes, nervousness spilling through the cracks. 

“Sorry -” She rushes out, hands flailing by her sides like she doesn't know where to put them.

“It’s okay -” Bobby stutters as well.

“Uh -” She shakes her head, looking at him and then behind her where Rocco’s waiting expectantly. “We should, um -” She points as she trips over her words. So un-herself. “Yeah. We should go.” Without another word she shoots off towards the truck.

He watches as she gets in, trailing a few seconds behind before he clambers in himself. The truck shakes as Rocco turns the key in the ignition, engine rumbling to life. It’s a pretty old truck, but still, it’s a truck. And it has it’s classic Rocco spin of course. Something resembling a dreamcatcher and beads dangle from the rearview mirror. There are small cigarette burns in the seats and there is a faint earthy smell. But, still, it’s so adult and definitely more impressive than anything Bobby owns.

The journey is relatively quiet, just the tinny sound of music coming from the radio and dull buzz of the engine. The tiredness is clearly catching up to all of them now. Bobby tries to relax as much as he can, watching the world pass by through the window, everything a smear of greens from the trees and greys from the roads.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Poppy dozing in the front. She’s slumped down with her arms crossed, trying to battle sleep. Bobby fights his smile when her head slowly bobs down, snapping back up as she tries to stay awake. Then it happens again, her eyelashes fanning above her cheeks as her eyes close, casting thin delicate shadows. Her head snaps back, flinging some of her hair over her shoulder, only for it to lower down again a few seconds later. 

Rocco reaches over, lightly resting his hand on Poppy’s bare thigh which wakes her up fully. She sits up straight in her seat, mumbling something to Rocco that makes him chuckle. Bobby doesn’t catch it. She glances over to look at Rocco, smiling when he gives her a cheeky grin back, before focusing on the road again. Bobby stares, of course, the outside no longer interesting compared to this. 

The morning sun is beaming through the windows, putting Poppy’s warm skin under Rocco’s hand on display. It’s such a casual but definitely beyond a friendly type of gesture. Rocco slowly starts flexing his fingers, kneading and squeezing Poppy’s leg. Bobby can see the ripple of goosebumps rise up as Rocco places his hand higher, just at the hem of her shorts, not taking his eyes off the road once. Bobby starts to scowl to himself, mind wandering back to the time he walked in on them kissing at Lottie’s party all those weeks ago and -

Shit. Not again.

Bobby shakes the images out of his head, ripping his gaze away and back to outside the window, distracting himself with the view. 

Bobby isn’t a jealous person. He’s never thought himself of one anyways. He doesn’t like these new emotions seeping in and poking at him, forcing him to see the situation in front of him and remind him what’s real and what isn’t. It’s horrid. Just when he thinks he has a little control over how he feels, it bubbles up all over again. Like a monster threatening to expose him.

“Hey, man.” Rocco’s voice cuts in. “Where’s your place?”

Bobby sits up, locking eyes with Rocco’s in the rearview mirror. He’s still got his hand on Poppy’s leg and it’s taking everything in Bobby to not glance back down at it.

“Uh -” Bobby blinks, looking out the window and trying to figure out where they are. “If you take the next right and follow the signs to the beach front it’s not too far from there.”

Rocco nods, fixing his eyes on the road again and giving Poppy another reassuring squeeze. Fuck, Bobby can’t look. Whatever this new, indescribable anger he’s feeling forms into something sharp as a blade, hitting him square in the chest. He clenches his fist, trying to keep his focus out the window, but the longer he stares at the palm trees and beach houses, the deeper the annoyance sets in.

And all over a girl. The cliche of it all makes him want to laugh. Or cry. Or scream. He's not sure yet.

Soon enough he’s pointing Rocco in the right direction and they roll to a stop in front of his house. He mumbles a thanks before getting out, closing the door a little more forcefully than he means to. Just as he’s making his way up the path to his front door, he hears another car door open and close. Over his shoulder he sees Poppy bounding up the path.

“What’re you doing?” He watches as she walks straight past him and continues up to his porch.

“Can a lady not walk a gentleman to his door?” She calls behind her. “Chivalry isn’t reserved for people with dicks, y’know.”

She stops by his front door, waiting patiently as he walks up, feet feeling heavier each time he takes a step. He stands opposite her, looking at the door and back to her, not entirely sure what to say. Poppy hums to herself and smiles weakly at him, trying to figure out what to say too. Goodbyes aren’t her strong suit. So, with a shrug, she decides she isn’t going to say anything at all.

She simply steps forwards and envelopes him in a hug. Bobby tenses, oh so confused. But, as her hands lightly smooth over his back, the exact same way she did when he was crying, he slowly wraps his arms around her middle as well.

There are hugs in life that consist of gentle arms and allow for space to breathe. They’re normally reserved for friends, family, anyone you deem to be close. But, this… this is a presence he’s never felt before. Stronger than anything he’s ever known, as if holding onto him isn’t quite enough for her. Holding him so tight that if she ever lets go he’s going to shatter and break down into that crying mess he was so many hours ago. Protective and reassuring. He can feel the heat from her face, her whole body lit-up.

“I hope you’re alright.” She mumbles into his shoulder.

Bobby doesn’t answer. He closes his eyes, letting the deep breath he’s been holding leave his lungs. There’s something so right about this, the feeling, the smell, the warmth. It doesn't last though, coming to a grinding halt when Rocco impatiently beeps his horn, _again._ Jesus, prick isn’t the right word. Poppy abruptly pulls away, taking all her warmth and goodness with her. A cold streak runs down his spine.

“See you later, yeah?” She rocks her shoulders, doing a little happy dance.

“Later?”

“Yeah. Phase three, dude! Time to kick back!” She walks back to the truck, talking over her shoulder. “You remember that restaurant I took you to, ages ago? The one Mars’ dad owns?”

“Uh, yeah -”

“Be there at eight!” She calls just before she hops back in the truck. She rolls the window down and continues to shout at him. “Dress to impress!”

Bobby watches as she grins and gives him a wave before Rocco drives away. He waves back, emotions under the surface not matching the happy smile on his face. He watches the ‘ass, gas or grass’ sticker on the bumper get smaller and smaller until the truck turns into a small red dot before disappearing around a corner.

  
  


**

  
  


“Why am I always dragged into your little fashion shows -”

“I swear, I won’t ask you again.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

“Thank you!” Bobby chimes.

“So... remind me again?” Emily frowns.

“Something fancy but casual, like, not a suit but not beach wear either?” Bobby says turning back to his wardrobe, rifling through it. “Ye get me?”

Emily’s perching on the end of his bed, pouting as she thinks. Her perfectly manicured nails tap against her knee, in sync with the options rolling around in her head. There’s not much for her to work with when all Bobby wears these days is t-shirts and cotton shorts. 

Out of the Mckenzies, Emily has always held the highest rank in terms of fashion knowledge. She’s hip and young, easily susceptible to the latest trends and fads advised to her demographic. She always had to have the newest clothes, even if that meant giving up her individuality. Emily is happy to fit in. The introduction of the mall was like a godsend for her and her mates. 

“Ay. I get ye. Is this for a date thing?” Emily questions.

“A group thing.”

“A group thing where you all dress nice?” She squints her eyes at him.

“I don’t know all the details.” He shrugs. “All I’ve been told is _dress to impress._ ”

“Is Priya going?” Emily asks, a grin plastered on her face.

Bobby doesn’t know how to answer that. The first thing he did after getting in the house was call her. The phone rang and rang, pressed up so close to his ear he could feel the static of the line. It continued to chime, mocking him almost, until he finally gave up. He called again before showering. Then after. Still nowt. Then again about 5 minutes before desperately pleading with Emily on helping him out with his outfits choice. Still, Priya didn’t pick up.

"I don't know." He mumbles, staring at his clothes.

Emily nods again, not pressing any further. Silently, she gets up from the bed and walks out the room. She’s not even been gone for five minutes by the time she returns with a pile of clothes in her arms.

“Now -” She dumps them on his bed. “I know Terry isn’t exactly your favourite human being -”

“You brought me _Terry’s_ clothes!?” He doesn’t turn to look at her. Frustration doesn’t come close to what he’s feeling. He continues to move clothes back and forth on his hanger, like something appropriate will pop out of thin air.

“Hear me out!” Emily holds a hand up, laughing. “I think this would really suit you.” She holds up a shirt.

Bobby rolls his eyes before even looking at it. He turns to take a peak. Terry has always had the classic middle-aged man on vacation type of fashion sense, where he thinks he can match any old tacky hawaiian shirt to some swim trunks. But when Bobby takes a closer look he actually finds himself kinda liking it. It’s not something he’d normally go for, but a little change won’t hurt him. It’s pretty simple, navy blue scattered with a generous amount of pink and maroon floral patterns. Not too fancy and not too casual.

“I think you can pair it with those khaki shorts you’ve got lying about somewhere.” She chucks the shirt at him and he snatches it out of the air.

Emily gets bored after debating whether he should leave 1 or 2 buttons undone at the top. They decide on 1, Bobby’s not the type to pull off the open shirt look. Emily says it’s reserved for douchebags, which makes him laugh. After what feels like the 100th time checking himself in the mirror, he rushes downstairs, punching Priya’s number into the phone.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” He whispers, staring at the wall. 

He doesn’t even care if one of her parents answers, or, hell, even one of her sisters. He just needs to know if she’s alright. He stares at the chunky buttons of the keypad, wondering if Priya had tried to call him when he was out galavanting last night and this morning. Flirting with someone else. Fuck. The longer the phone rings the more confused he gets, paranoid that their tiny fall out has somehow snowballed into her flat-out ignoring him.

And he doesn’t even have the right to feel mad about it, considering his actions the past day. He feels rotten.

Fuck. He hangs up and dials another number. 

  
  


**

  
  


“There he is!” Noah calls, grinning with open arms as Bobby approaches him and Chelsea standing at their familiar meeting point.

“Here I am!” Bobby says, smiling back. Noah has such an infectious smile you can’t help but give the energy straight back to him.

Chelsea bounces over, her pigtails flailing wildly as she slams into Bobby and pulls him into a tight hug. Noah follows suit and wraps his arms around them as well.

“I missed you guys.” Bobby says, feeling Chelsea smile against his shoulder.

“We’ve been here the entire time.” Noah teases, making them all laugh. He gives them both a squeeze and they all step back from each other, sharing a content sigh.

“You know what I mean.” Bobby gives him a light punch on the arm.

“I’m liking your shirt, Bobs!” Chelsea reaches up and pinches the collar. “Classy.”

“Thanks!” He grins. “I like your pigtails.”

“You’re too nice to me.” She loops her arm with his, finding it sits a little higher than normal. She frowns and looks up at him. “You’re taller.” She says as they start walking towards town.

“Uh -” Noah dramatically gestures his hands all over himself, standing still and staring as they keep walking down the street. “Hello!?” He runs after them, not appreciating their giggles.

They talk the entire time, just as giddy like when they all first became friends, no space for pauses or even a breath as they catch up. He’s really missed this. 

Bobby didn’t even realise how much they’ve had to catch up on. Chelsea goes into details about her and Noah’s night, words spilling out her mouth so quickly from excitement that Bobby has to keep telling her to slow down, laughing the entire time. But, as soon as it’s Bobby’s time to talk he’s the exact same, heart beating hard against his ribs as he relives the running and the fireworks and - everything. 

They’re in the centre of town by the time Noah is rambling about training tomorrow morning, scared whether Stirling has an inkling of what’s gone down. It’s relatively busy, restaurants and bars open and spilling out into the street. The night air smells like grease and hearty food. It’s comforting, like how going home feels. Bobby’s always preferred this part of the town, it’s always full of the locals instead of holidaymakers. But, the evil part of his brain reminds him of how deathly nauseous he was when Poppy first took him down here. 

He can see the shopfront of Marisol’s father’s restaurant ahead. The canopy is collapsed and the shutters are down but he can make out a faint light spilling in between the slats. If Bobby squints he can see a few figures talking next to the back doors in the alley. 

He spots Lottie and Henrik first, their backs to him. They’re laughing and talking enthusiastically to another girl. At first Bobby doesn’t recognise her, slowly taking her in like she’s a stranger, until he hears that unashamed, full cackle of hers. Sweeter to his ears than a melody. Soothing to the soul. Poppy, of course.

Bobby has to keep his legs moving otherwise he knows his knees will lock up, or worse, give out on him.

Radiating confidence that Bobby is so entranced by, she stands tall. Though she’s about a head shorter than him, her essence tended to tower over others. At first he found it intimidating but the longer he’s been by her side, exposed to her warmth, he radiates his own confidence. Not even aware of it half the time. 

She’s sporting her hair in a high slicked back ponytail, complete opposite of her normal loose curls soaked in sea water. The street lamp next to them illuminates the yellow sundress with long flowy sleeves she’s wrapped up in. Even the purple bruises littering her legs are fascinating. 

God, it’s so cliche - but she literally is glowing.

Like a threat, she’s always been just a daydream away. At least when she was dressed in her rags he could keep his cool. A safe place where he’d never lose. But now she’s all done up, unknowing and very much setting herself up to spill into his mind more than usual. 

She’s gorgeous. And Bobby’s just another person in the long line of guys who probably trip over themselves just to be next to her. 

Poppy’s not entirely engaged in the conversation, a small frustrated line sits between her brows that Bobby wants to smooth away with this finger. She’s chewing on her thumbnail, starring straight past Lottie’s shoulder. Bobby can see her eyes following the cigarette between Lottie’s fingers as she waves her hand about. She looks like she doesn’t even know she’s chewing on her thumbnail, so entranced. It’s kinda gross. And weirdly cute. But, let's be honest she could do anything and Bobby would find a way to see it as endearing.

Lottie turns when she hears the steps of their shoes against the pavement, instantly throwing her arms up and yelling a hello. Chelsea and Henrik exchange multiple high fives as Lottie wraps Noah up in a hug, careful not to burn him with her cig. Bobby slides up next to Poppy, giving her a small as she says hello.

“No Priya?” Henrik frowns at Bobby as they settle into a circle.

Bobby shakes his head. “Tried calling her. Got nothing.”

“She’s gonna miss the fun.” Poppy frowns.

Lottie sighs, ashing on the ground. “Poor princess must be having one of her tantrums.”

“Tantrums?” Noah asks before Bobby can himself.

“Oh, it’s just a thing she does -” Poppy tries to play down Lottie’s comment, but the blonde continues.

“Every summer - there’s always something.” Lottie takes a drag from her cigarette. “She doesn’t drink. Or party, really. I’m convinced this whole drug thing freaked her out.” She waves a hand, batting the smoke as she exhales. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time. She’ll be back.”

Bobby doesn’t know what to say. Lottie drops the Priya conversation as quickly as she picked it up, turning her attention to Chelsea and Noah and asking how the rest of their night went. Bobby’s attention is faltering, having heard the story literally 10 minutes ago, only to get snapped up when Rocco walks outside and slides up next to Poppy. 

Not meaning to, Bobby’s eyes land on Rocco’s chest, where he must have at least 4 buttons undone. Wow, his sister is right. Major douchebag. Rocco gives Poppy a small smile, handing her something. She says thanks, before he slinks away and goes back inside. Bobby looks down at her hands to see her gripping a lollipop. She grins from ear to as she stuffs it in her pocket, mumbling praises to herself. 

“Lollipop?” Bobby leans down slightly to ask.

“Better than smoking.” She smiles at him. “This is the second step.”

“What, destroying your teeth instead of your lungs?”

“Shut up.” She bumps him with her shoulder.

He bumps her back and she smirks up at him.

More teasing words are on the tip of his tongue, only to be interrupted as Marisol peers out the door, looking like a floating head. She ushers everyone to follow, waving her hands excitedly. They step inside to be greeted with chaos. The nice kind of chaos though.

Marisol continues her strut through the kitchen, dishing out instructions. She moves as if conducting her own personal orchestra. 

There are copious amounts of dishes getting loaded up with finished food. Gary and Ibrahim are amid a flour covered station, throwing their heads back in laughter as they try to work a pasta machine. They feed the dough in, not met with the paper thin noodles. But, instead of failure casting over them, they’re howling with laughter. Marisol smacks Rahim on the arm, taking it away from them.

“We’re not even having pasta!” She crows.

The boys just keep laughing. Gary’s howling cuts dead as Chelsea bounces past, speaking animatedly with her hands to Noah.

“You’re not going to steal anything this time are you?” Bobby cocks his head towards one of the fridges at the back. Poppy laughs with a blank face, raising her middle finger at him.

“I didn’t steal, last time.” She stops her stride, leaning on one of the counters.

“Well it certainly wasn’t borrowing.”

“I _asked_ to steal.”

“That’s still kinda stealing.”

“I took. With permission.”

“Fucking hell, do you guys always bicker?” Lottie butts in, looping her arm in Poppys. “How you got anything done the other night is beyond me.”

With a small tug, Lottie leads Poppy away, shuffling them through the kitchen. Poppy throws him a sorry smile over her shoulder as they go through the swinging doors to the main part of the restaurant. His first instinct is to follow, but he stops himself as he takes the first step. So, for now, he leaves himself wondering what’s in store for the night to come. Bobby walks over to where Henrik is putting some finishing touches on some of the nicest looking brownies he has ever seen.

“Damn dude. These look amazing.” Bobby beams, looking down at the neat pattern Henrik is stacking them in.

“Thanks, man.” His smile is so bright, like his platinum hair. “You bake?”

“Oh, no.” Bobby waves a hand. “People have always suggested it though.” It was pretty suspicious how often family and even teachers at school had tried to steer him towards baking. “Maybe I have one of those faces.”

Henrik laughs. “I don’t bake often. But when I do -” He gestures in front of him with an easy going nod. “It’s quite a treat.”

“Aren’t, like, all baked goods a treat?”

“No, man. Like, a _treat._ ” He stares at him. “One per person typa treat.”

Oh. _Oh._

Soon enough Marisol is shoving plates and jugs and everything into people’s hands and marching them out of the kitchen with just as much enthusiasm as before. Food dishes are placed on the table, lines of steam running up into the air. Everything looks _amazing._ A traditional spanish feast. Paprika sweet potatoes, stuffed peppers, dried tomatoes and mozzarella, platters with chorizo, iberico cheese and salchichon. And of course many bowls of olives and garlic bread. 

Chelsea pulls Bobby into the seat next to her, looking giddier than ever. As he takes his place, his gaze flicks over to Poppy where she’s sat higher up the table, close to Lottie and Hope. She catches it and smiles. He looks away, smiling to himself, missing her cheeks turn pink before looking down at her hands.

There is something oddly mafia like as Lottie says her praises at the head of the table before they all toast their drinks over the array of food sitting dead centre. Kinda like they’re a family.

“Salud!” Lucas chimes as everyone’s glasses clink together.

The meal goes down as Bobby expects, loud from conversation but giddy from their current success. He still can’t believe it. A whole heist executed down to the T and no one got caught. Well, so they thought. Rahim lets slip about his mishap and now on the receiving end of one of Lottie’s famous death glares.

“I didn’t actually get _caught_.” Ibrahim shakes his head. “We just ended up talking.”

“How do you end up talking to one of those pigs!?” Lottie crows, her surprise and anger elevated by her drunkenness.

After executing their own fireworks display, Gary and Rahim thought it’d be clever to split off from each other, making it harder for whoever was tracking them down. Only, Rahim continued to get followed. Apparently her name is Jo and she’s pretty fast on a bike. 

“I don’t know.” His eyebrows knit together and his lips curl into a frown. “Girls just talk to me.” They don’t call him Rahim the Steam for nothing.

The night goes on, volumes rising in tandem as more alcohol is consumed. The room is boisterous now that the actual eating is done and everyone has swiftly moved onto the partying. 

Music is playing and the drinks are flowing. Lottie is at the small bar on the other side of the room, demonstrating her skills as she mixes drinks. Hannah looks gobsmacked as Lottie throws the shaker into the air and catches it behind her back, not one drop spilt. Rocco and Henrik chant, fists banging the table as Noah tortures himself with multiple shots. After the 4th one he looks like he’s going to empty his entire stomach right there at the table.

Bobby finds himself at the center of it all, no longer clinging onto that wallflower status he’s fixed himself into all these years. 

One minute he’s egging Lucas on as he attempts to get under the makeshift limbo pole they’ve set up. Well, if you call Gary and Ibrahim holding a broom a limbo pole. Next, he’s getting pulled into the limelight himself. And he goes willingly, not embarrassed or paranoid or anything. Just in the moment and having a great time. Poppy’s watching on from the sidelines, clapping in time with the music and everyone else. Hope cries with laughter as he lands flat on his back underneath the pole, eyes as wide as his gaping mouth.

He chats and jokes with everyone like they’ve been friends for years. Sure, the liquid confidence is helping massively, but it’s a nice change of pace for him. Like he’s blossoming and coming into his own. No more wallflower.

Around midnight Bobby finds himself seeking out any alcohol he can get his hands on, eyes scanning the room. It’s a good distraction from this looming Priya situation at the back of his conscience. But he can’t help but feel a weird charge in the air. Like this morning. Or as Rocco would say, the energy. Hearts are definitely on fire tonight. Guards slipping and inhibitions getting stripped back. It’s not entirely obvious but at a closer glance there are a few lingering looks and hopeful smiles. 

Lucas is turning up the charm, standing close with Hope at the bar. He laughs ridiculously at one of her jokes and his hand lands on her forearm. She chuckles along, not catching Lucas’ eyes darting to where Hannah is sitting at the table with Gary, knees bumping together. Hannah excuses herself to the bathroom, gripping Gary’s shoulder as she gets up. As soon as she’s out of sight, Gary’s attention moves over to Chelsea and Henrik giggling and sneaking a taste of his special brownies.

Total clusterfuck, like Priya told him.

Gary looks sad almost. His big shoulders rise and sink as he takes a breath before getting up and disappearing into the kitchen.

Still itching for more of a buzz, Bobby looks around the room only to realise Poppy isn’t anywhere to be seen. He slips away from the bulk of the party, stalking towards the kitchen. Everyone’s too engrossed in conversation, talking and laughing loudly. Henrik has the full attention of the room now, going into detail about the pizza portion of the heist. Ibrahim is cracking up as he describes how blissfully accepting Stirling was of the whole situation.

Bobby begins to open the door to the kitchen when he catches a glimpse of Gary and Poppy through the little porthole window. Gary’s got a little scowl on his face, arms crossed. They’re speaking in low voices. Poppy stands back, listening intently with a small frown of her own. 

Gary trails off, shaking his head, brows pinching together. Poppy leans over to stroke his arm. Her lips are moving but Bobby can’t make out anything she’s saying. Gary shrugs and shakes his head. She keeps talking, collected and calm like she hasn’t been drinking at all. Deep meaningful chats always arise when alcohol is about. They’re an unlikely pair, but destined to be together if at least one exists.

Soon enough, whatever words she’s spouting take some effect, as Gary’s stoic stance thaws out and he smiles down at her. What Bobby thinks is a pep talk comes to a conclusion as Poppy gives him an affirming nod and squeezes his arm again. They hug and Gary mutters something into her ear which makes her laugh.

That sweet, jealous part of Bobby digs into his chest again, twisting deep so it hurts just that tiny bit more. Gary moves through the kitchen with a new found confidence, striding like he’s walking on clouds. Bobby jumps sideways as Gary pushes through the door, narrowly missing him. He watches over his shoulder as the big blond approaches Henrik and Chelsea, before sneaking into the kitchen himself.

Expecting to see Poppy, his smile falls when he finds himself in a now empty room. A small plastic wrapper sits on the counter adjacent to where she was standing. It rustles and slides along the cold metallic surface as the nighttime breeze rushes through the slightly ajar doors leading to the alley. 

Slowly, he finds himself walking over, searching through the gap for her. It’s a picture image of how he found her early this morning. Sitting on the edge of the pavement, chin resting on her knees. The same blank expression on her face. Only this time she’s sucking on a lollipop and not smoking.

His heart skips three beats this time.

He leans on the door more forcefully than his judgement had promised him, sending it flying open and hitting the brick of the building with a loud _clang._

Poppy squeaks, grabbing her chest and looking over her shoulder.

“Fucking hell, you scared me.” She exhales, looking at him with mad eyes.

“Sorry, sorry -”

"What're you doing?" She questions and he sits down next to her.

"Just making sure you're not sneaking a smoke."

"You caught me." She scoffs with a smile and waves the lollipop Rocco gave her earlier in her hand. She pops it in her mouth and the hard candy makes a clicking sound against her teeth.

They sit in silence, watching the alive street in front of them. One of the bars is so busy it’s spilled out all cross the road. Loud music from the salsa band inside is bringing everyone to life, it has the whole street dancing. The up-beat steps filter down into the brick and walls of the buildings around them, so infectious it’s like they’re dancing too. People are moving without a care in the world, bright smiles on their faces. Bobby finds himself tapping his foot along to the rhythm.

“Hey, uh -” She turns to look at him. Her voice sounds hollow, out of sorts. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” Bobby murmurs, smiling at his own joke.

“Dick.” Poppy pokes him on the arm. “I’m serious.”

“Oh.” He glances at her. “What’s up?”

Frowning, she twists the lollipop in her fingers. She’s got that confused look on her face, replica of the one just before they lit the first firework on heist night. Her mouth hangs open, eyes looking at the ground as she tries to continue to talk, but can’t. Just like last time _._ Bobby is getting the weirdest Déjà vu. Or maybe he’s drunker than he thought. He’s not sure.

“It’s, um -” Before she’s even started she cuts herself off. She bites on her lower lip, dragging it between her teeth. “Do you -” She stops again, scowling silently.

Bobby just waits, feeling himself start to heat up just thinking about whatever is going to come out of her mouth. The cold breeze blowing past them isn't offering any kind of relief either. Maybe he should’ve gone with another undone button after all. He can feel her deflate as her shoulders slump, like the question on the tip of her tongue has died right there. She pops the lollipop back in her mouth, cheeks hollowing slightly as she sucks.

She looks like she’s going to give up when her eyes glimmer. Suddenly she’s facing him, like a switch has flipped.

“Do you wanna guess my chin?” She asks.

“What?”

“You never guessed my chin.”

“That’s not a question.” And Bobby can tell it’s definitely not the question she wanted to ask in the first place. She doesn’t look as nervous anymore, waving it off with one of those stellar smiles.

“Observant tonight, aren’t you?” She teases.

“I’m just warming up.”

“Yeah? Put your skills to work then, detective.”

Bobby laughs, turning to face her. “Hm. Let’s solve this mystery then.”

Bobby ums and ahs for a few seconds, exaggerating the longer he goes on. Making rings with his fingers, he holds his hands up to face like binoculars and peers at her face. Poppy starts laughing, shoving at him when he gets close. He can smell the sweet, chemically flavour of whatever lolly she’s sucking on now. It’s mixing into whatever fragrance she’s sprayed herself with and the comforting food smells still billowing out of the kitchen. 

“I don’t know.” He takes his hands away from his face, squinting at her. “So many options to choose from.”

Delicately, he places his fingers under her chin, tilting her face to look at him. It happens so easily, neither of them realising their bodies are inching closer on the pavement. Hell, they’re not even aware of whatever this is between them half the time, constantly playing into this tennis match they seem to have going. She says something and then he says something else, and soon enough they’re going back and forth until they’re lost in each other, not realising what they’re doing. 

It comes too naturally. Their banter is a slippery slope, threatening to tip.

He can’t deny anymore that she is the most astonishing girl he’s ever met. Not even a girl, a woman. Easy to talk to, fun to be around. A laugh that knocks him on his ass every single time. She has safe eyes, until they glint with that fiery humour she always teases him with. There’s beauty in those things that Bobby’s never realised before.

And there must be something she sees him in. 

There’s a mutual feeling there. He knows it. More than a crush. A shared energy of some kind of desire, racing through both of them and trying to poke at their most fragile points, trying to find each other. He can’t resist the idea of thinking about it. He wants to find out. Closure to something he doesn’t even know the proper question and answer to.

She has that look in her eye that he can’t get enough of.

Slowly, she tugs at the lollipop in her mouth. Bobby freezes, eyes dropping down as she lets it slide against her lips and leaving a sticky red residue. He can’t see anything else but her face, perfectly framed by the street light above them and her puffy pink puckering lips as the lolly leaves her mouth with a wet pop sound. The noise is so lewd, it jabs him straight in the chest, all the way down to now half-awake cock. My god.

“Any clues?” She murmurs.

He shakes his head, mouth filling with a sour taste, the lolly she’s holding between them practically teasing him. Though he’d much prefer to taste the sweetness sitting on her lips. Her eyes are so dark, black almost, full of lustful depths that Bobby can’t even begin to imagine. She’s looking straight at him, like she’s trying to search for the depths in his own. His blood is boiling, heart beating up into his mouth. He swallows hard, trying to stay calm.

She moves towards him, fixing him with her gaze as she presses the lolly against his lips. Jesus fucking christ. Not even thinking he accepts it, opening and closing his mouth as he continues to stare straight at her. His eyes widen as sugar begins to melt and rushes out into his mouth and on his tongue, the rich fruity flavour sinking into his taste buds. Shit, it tastes like - 

“Cherry.” He mumbles around it.

Just like she did to him this morning, he gently takes her chin between his finger and thumb and squeezes. There’s no line. Cherry.

“Mystery solved.” She whispers as if regular volumes would somehow ruin this moment.

"How…fitting." He exhales, voice shaky.

She lets out a small laugh, her sweet breath ghosting and tickling his wet lips.

Any coherent thought dies right there. He's so hard and he's not even been touched. The hairs on his neck rise, his craving for her renewed purely through her brilliance. She gives him one of her wicked smiles, gaze dipping down to look at his lips. A seed plants, green buds already bursting out his chest and climbing towards her sunshine.

He gawks as she pulls the lollipop from his mouth, fighting to not let his eyes travel south where she’s biting her lip. Her eyes are so full of amusement as she sucks it back into her mouth and sighs, sugar dancing on her tongue. And now his saliva. His nerves are on fire, the anticipation of her next move alone more seductive than anything she’s ever done.

Softly, she lays a hand on his knee, before pushing herself up and walking back inside. He watches the swish of her hips, dick aching in his shorts before she pushes the swinging door and disappears back to the party. The thump of the music inside sings in and out of existence as the door continues to swing back and forth until it gently comes to a stop.

He can’t stop staring at the door, knowing he has to go back and rejoin.

Jesus. 

Static fills his ears, blood draining from his face. He doesn’t know what to do. His head was a mess after the kiss, and now… now -

“ _Bobby!_ ”

Not until a shadow casts over him does he realise someone’s approached. He looks up, eyes blowing wide to find Priya smiling down at him.

“Holy - Priya -” His voice cracks.

“Hey, you!” She chimes happy as larry and sitting next to him. “Sorry I’m late. I called you but you had left by the time I tried. Emily told me you guys were out.” 

He can’t hear anything, like her voice is underwater. She rests a hand on the back of his neck, fingertips brushing against the goosebumps still sitting there. He lets himself get pulled in as she kisses him sweetly on the lips. With a pleasantly surprised smile, she pulls away. The white noise in his ear drums dials up into a piercing ring.

“You taste sweet." She says.

_Fuck._

"Like... cherries.” She continues, using her thumb to swipe over his lips. “You guys getting hyped off of sugar instead?” Priya sniggers to herself.

Bobby sputters out a laugh, a little too loud.

“Yeah.” He glances over at the swinging door inside again. “Something like that.”

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👅🍒🍭
> 
> *rick james voice* that gurl is pretty kiiinnnky
> 
> if you are an aspiring writer, already an litg ff writer, fan artist or just a lover of fanfiction, there is a wonderful subreddit dedicated to all things creative - r/LITGFanFiction!!! pls come and join us and spread the love 💞💖💝
> 
> come talk to me on twitter @l0singface. i draw sexi 🍑 and stupid 🤡 litg things. would love to know what ya think!!
> 
> and thank you for reading my lovelies!!!! (sorry this was kinda a long one again!)


	16. Enough To Keep Me Guessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 🚫 viewer discretion advised! (not for wees)

**

Sun drenched patio. Big ironwood door. Rolling spanish hills.

Bobby has... _no_ idea where he is.

Which is strange, because he recognises the terracotta tile under his feet and the extravagant white mansion he is standing in front of. He recognises the dark wood door, laced in black iron and polished to perfection. Even the plants lining the path up the house. Everything. He recognises everything.

And yet he has no idea where he is.

He looks around again, taking in his surroundings. The sun is huge in the sky, overpowering. It’s so bright he swears he can see the rays bouncing off the dust in the air, turning them into sparkling lights. They glint in the air as they pass him, like fairies prancing in an enchanted land. Nothing feels like it should, yet it all looks so real. The palm trees are oversaturated, the green hurting his eyes slightly. Everything has a pink-ish, purple-ly tint to it. Very fairytale esque. He is so confused. 

_I’m so confused._

The air feels heavy, like static before a thunderstorm. An underlying calmness before the first strike hits. He watches overhead as some seagulls soar over and disappear behind the mansion towering over him. Their squawks get lost in the hot air the further they drift away.

He feels himself begin to sweat just looking up at the sky. It’s so damn hot, definitely the hottest he’s felt ever since arriving in Spain. He wipes his arm over his forehead, skin to be instantly met with a slickness. Ugh. 

When he brings his arm back down to his side he notices the first real big difference. His hand. His hand doesn’t look like his hand. _What._ It’s a big, strong _man's hand_. Nothing like his scrawny slender teenage things. There is still the sprinkling of freckles and a couple of scars he’s accumulated over the years. But, still, he doesn’t recognise it as his own. 

Reeling back a little, he stretches out his arms, only to be greeted with toned muscles on both of them. He pats himself down and every single touch feels foreign. It’s all new. _This isn’t mine._ He grabs his face to be met with scratchy stubble that he has never encountered before. Then he grabs his chest and then down to his stomach and then - like any guy would - he grabs his junk. _That definitely isn’t mine._

What the fuck. He pats himself down again. And again, becoming increasingly panicked. Okay, this is super freaky now. His heart begins to jump in his chest, dread setting in. But before any more thoughts can spiral, the door to the mansion swings open and -

“Poppy?” Bobby says, eyes huge. He promptly slaps a hand over his mouth, even his voice sounds different.

Except… it’s _not_ Poppy. It is, but it isn’t.

She has her face, her hair and smile and body.

But, she looks a little older. Mature. There’s something else different about her that he can’t pinpoint.

She’s dressed up in that purple-y sheer robe, with the feather collar and sleeves. Just a thin lace thong to cover her up underneath. Bobby throws his hands up, blocking the image of her straight away because - _christ alive_ , her nipples are right there. She stands with no regards towards anything, like her body is a gift to the world.

Forcefully, she grabs his shirt and pulls him through into the house before shoving at the door with bright hot anger. The door slams closed, the fury behind it vibrating all through the house and trickling up to the chandelier above them, shaking a little and making it chime.

“What are you doing?” She glares at him, hands on her hips.

“What are _you_ doing?” Bobby says, turning his head away as much as he can. This is absolute torture. “Where are we? _Why are you wearing that?_ ”

“This?” She pinches the collar with a pout. Her perfect crimson lips twist into a frown. “I thought you liked this?”

“I do?” He finally looks at her, keeping his eyes on her face.

“Yeah, is this not what you wanted?”

He opens one eye, peeking at her for a second and - fuck. Why is this happening.

Poppy walks toward him, batting his hands down and forcing him to look at her. Poppy keeps her focus on him, tilting her head, eyeing him up suspiciously. She gently runs her fingers from behind his ear and along the ridge of his jaw, her soft skin against the grain of his stubble. Bobby can’t do anything else but stare at her, watching her eyes follow her finger.

“You haven’t answered my question.” She murmurs.

“What?” He breathes out.

Slowly, she backs him up, pushing her hands on his shoulders until he’s trapped between the hard wood of the door and her body. She leans into him, nuzzling against his chin before pushing herself up and resting her lips against his. 

“Is this not what you wanted?”

“I…” He can’t figure out what the hell is going on. “I don’t know.”

Bobby can’t breathe, almost going cross-eyed as he stares at her. Her steady breath is coming out in hot puffs, tickling against his mouth, sending shivers that echo all throughout his body. 

“Can I kiss you?” She asks. Her eyes are half-lidded, dreamily staring at his lips like she’s never seen something so perfect.

Bobby nods, without a second thought.

Her movement is careful at first, gliding her hands up against his chest like she’s thinking about where to place them. Eventually they settle around his face, gently stroking as she leans in and then - she kisses him. 

She kisses him again, and again, and again until they both melt into it, sealing their lips together. His hands find her waist, digging into her flesh as he pulls her closer. Poppy makes a soft, content sound against his lips, the kind that Bobby has never heard from her before. Bobby’s never even _thought_ about her making those types of sounds, he’s so stunned to hear it against his lips, followed by soft pants of arousal.

“Mm, _Bobby_ -” She sighs in his mouth, sending his head into a spin.

She works her way to his neck, cradling his head with gentle hands as her body works up a subtle rhythm, rolling her hips into his. Those soft content sounds soon turn into moans as he shoves a leg between hers, helping her rock against his strong thigh. There is no denying that Bobby is turned on, since, well - _hello:_ practically naked, delicious smelling, gorgeousness grinding against his hip and whispering his name.

“Do you want this?” She whimpers before biting down on where his neck meets his shoulder. Bobby groans, hips jolting forward and catching her own heat with some delicious friction.

Her voice is so velvety and comforting, Bobby fights himself not to keel over right there. He’s still, for the life of him, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. Her tongue works into the dip of his collarbone, only to shoot up again to kiss and nip at his lips and snake back down to bite at his neck. With steady hands she unbuttons his shirt, pushing at the fabric until it falls past his shoulders and is discarded on the floor.

“Y-yes.” He gasps.

“Yes, what?” She kisses down his chest.

“Yes, I want this.”

She slides to her knees, keeping her eyes on him the entire time, a smile growing as she settles on the floor. Her tongue explores the taut skin of his abdomen as he tenses and sighs up to the ceiling. Soon her kisses get slower and slower until she’s lazily licking down his happy trail, humming to herself as Bobby’s sighs eventually melt into quiet moans. Her head snaps back up again, hands hesitating at the front of his trousers.

“Do you want me?”

_Do I?_

“Yes.” He pants.

Without even needing to look she works his trousers open and gently tugs his underwear down, biting her lip and staring up into his eyes the entire time. It's killing him, he can't look at her face anymore. He screws his eyes shut, only daring to breath through his mouth as he guiltily savours every one of her touches. She gets a spit-slick palm around his cock, pumping a few times and making him gasp. His chest is practically shaking, feeling her breath against him as she edges closer.

It's almost too much too soon. Bobby winces as soon as her lips touch him, gentle and soft. She flattens her tongue and drags it all the way from the base of his dick to the tip, leaving a wet trail behind. She stalls there for a second, his dick a solid weight on her tongue. With that blazing glint in her eye and no hesitation, she wraps those perfect plush lips around him, gently sucking the tip of him into her hot mouth.

“Oh, _fuck -_ ”

Bobby’s eyes fly open, keening over and grabbing his chest, scared that if he doesn’t his heart is going to beat straight out of his own rib cage. Shit, he can’t breathe. Everything’s slipped away at once. The bright sun. The hardwood firm against his back. Polar opposite of Poppy’s cushiony lips on him.

He blinks to find himself sitting upright in his bed, alarm clock beeping loudly next to him on his right and a groggy, stirring Priya to his left. The room is dark with the early morning light peeking in through his drawn blinds. His chest is heaving, sweat sticking to his prickling skin. He blinks again, realising he is in fact in his room, not in some flashy mansion on the spanish hills.

Fuck, it was a dream. 

A god damn _sex dream_. 

“What time is it?” Priya groans and rubs her eyes.

Bobby leans over, turning his alarm off. 4:30am. The normal time for surfing. He glances over to Priya again, heart sinking. Probably best to give surfing a miss this morning.

“Early.” He sighs.

He looks around the room again, confused as if he can’t really believe he is here. His skin is still lit up, tight and hot like he really had been out in the sun. Amongst other things. The dream felt so real. He believed it. He swears he can feel the blazing sun and the plumpness of Poppy’s lips on his skin. He can still feel them as they glided down his body. The soft wetness of her tongue. Her wet mouth.

And he wanted it, god, he really wanted it.

He still wants it.

A shiver passes through him. He feels dirty just thinking about it. Even more so when he looks over at Priya lying next to him, her breathing is starting to even out as she falls back asleep. He settles into bed again, not aware of how awake his body really is until pressing up against Priya’s back and pulling her close. She stiffens and then laughs, pushing her bum up against him, to be met with a surprised groan escaping his lips. 

Fuck his life.

“Oh -- why, _hello.”_ Priya laughs again.

Bobby heats up, a full-blown blush sweeping all over his body. Fuck, he’s still undeniably hard from the dream. From the way his skin is buzzing and heat pooling in his stomach he figures for a while too. She rolls over to face him, teasingly swiping her lips over his cheek and nose before capturing his mouth with hers. Before he can protest, she gently pushes at his shoulder, straddling him as he settles on his back.

“You don’t have to set an alarm for this kinda thing, y’know.” She mumbles against him.

Bobby just laughs, confused and kind of scared. He probably shouldn’t tell her what the alarm really is for. Slowly, she makes her way down the bed, nipping and sucking at his overheated skin until blood rushes to the surface. Bobby quickly catches on when she nuzzles down his chest and disappears under the covers.

“Priya, you don’t have - _ah_ -” He moans involuntarily, his comment dying right there as she squeezes him through the fabric of his boxers.

He shoves the duvet off them both, greeted with Priya’s big smile and her fingers toying with the waistband of his underwear.

“No, it’s okay, I like it!” She muses, kissing just below his belly button.

“You really don’t have to.” Bobby repeats, stroking a hand over Priya’s arm. She’s already got goosebumps.

“I know I don’t have to.” She affirms with a smile. “I _want_ to.”

After finding Bobby sitting out on the pavement last night, Priya was acting her normal chipper self. It was like their tiff hadn’t even happened. They haven’t even attempted to talk about it yet. Bobby is just so unsure how to bring it up, silently praying that they both completely forget about it or that Priya brings it up first. And now he’s unsure that they’re going to talk about it at all.

Like the coward he knows he is, Bobby feigned feeling ill and in need of some fresh air. At least it justified him sitting outside by himself. There was no way he was going to be able to go back into that party. Not with Poppy in there waiting and a freshly arrived Priya on his arm.

The white lie rolled off his tongue so easily, he’s starting to wonder how this fakeness is coming all too easily. As soon as he said it he regretted it. It wasn’t like him to lie. He didn’t like it. Priya didn’t think twice about it, not even bothering to go inside to say hi and instead walking home with him.

Though, he did stall their sitting outside time as long as possible. He brought up every single small talk crap he could think of. Her sisters. The weather. Training. As if he were to get up straight away he’d be walking rather… stiffly.

Their night didn’t extend much from there. Emily and Beth were surprisingly happy to see Priya walking through his front door when they returned home. She wasn’t even three steps into the house when Emily gave her a hug and pulled her into the front room. Terry grunted a hello, not taking his eyes off the television. Bobby couldn’t hear anything they were saying as he trudged upstairs, done for the night.

It was a relatively innocent night for her first time staying over. Bobby stared at his reflection as he brushed his teeth, taking three times as long to get the rich, sweet cherry flavour out. By the time he spat out his toothpaste and washed his face, he found himself stuck in front of the mirror and still staring at his reflection in a small daze. 

He’d sobered up a little bit by now. His cheeks were a little pink from sunburn and small bags under his eyes. He leant closer, hands resting on the sink to get a better look at himself. He’s always found it strange that your reflection is not the version of yourself that other people see - but it’s the only version of yourself you can see.

He wondered for a second what Poppy sees. 

She can be so intense sometimes, when she cascades her gaze over his face, like her focus bounces from one freckle to another, really studying him. A soft panic set in, thinking back to when he broke down in front of her, exposing this new side of himself to her. _What did she see then?_ He couldn’t halt the idea of how his sadness ebbed into her daylight. And yet she didn’t shy away from it, not saying a word and just accepting his pain as if it were her own.

“ _Bobby?”_ There’s a knock at the door. Priya. “ _Are you coming to bed?”_

Bobby sighed, giving himself one more look over before walking over to the door and opening it. He’s greeted with Priyas soft smile. Her face was bare, hair tied up into a pineapple and one of his shirts hanging off her. Silently, he leans over, kissing her forehead. She grinned and kissed him back, linking their fingers together and making their way to his room. Soon enough they climbed into bed, limbs tangling together and dozing off.

Clearly, his brain was not at all satisfied, manifesting maybe the best and worst thing he has ever dreamt about. And now Priya is making sex-eyes at him, on the verge of sucking his Poppy fantasy induced boner. This is all so fucked.

“Priya,” He shakes his head. “It’s fine -”

“Bobby.” She sits up, placing her fingers on his lips to cut him off. “I know this won’t solve everything but…” She trails off, pinching the fabric of his bed sheets, caught up in her thoughts. “Please? I want to.”

The look in her eye is pleading, almost. He gives in, of course, trying to not think about how wrong this all is. As much as it pains him to think about, maybe the best way to get over this dream is to get under Priya. She slides back down the bed, a small naughty smile playing on her lips, more excited now than before. She disappears beneath the covers again, just her hair poking out and resting on Bobby’s stomach. 

It happens quite quickly. He feels his boxers snap against his thighs, her hot breath and then being enveloped in wet heat. He’s much closer than he thought, the first flick of Priya tongue forcing a moan out of him. He bites into his fist, breaths becoming increasingly out of sync and laboured as she sucks and swallows around him. He lasts about 3 minutes before coming undone to her mouth. He feels relieved more than anything as the tightly wound coil in his stomach releases. Finally, with a muffled groan he comes, his hips stuttering up off the bed.

As soon as Priya pulls off of him, he finds her hand under the covers and urges her up the bed. She kisses him, trying her best to catch her breath, grinning and happy with herself. They kiss and kiss and _kiss_ until the taste of him was off her tongue and on his own.

He repays the favour. 

And, yes, he does find the clit this time with no bloody interruptions.

  
  


**

  
  


By the time Bobby and Priya arrive at training later that morning, everyone is already waiting and scattered out on the sand. 

With no sign of Stirling.

Noah gives the couple a wave as they trudge their way over.

“What’s going on?” Bobby takes a seat next to Chelsea.

“Dunno,” She shrugs absently. “Stirling’s late. And he’s never late.”

Weird. Bobby looks around the group and everyone else looks just as confused and bored. And hungover. Like, some of them look _deathly_ hungover. Lucas is hunched over wearing sunglasses and a cold, wet towel over his head. Lottie is resting on Hope’s shoulder, bare faced and struggling to keep her eyes open. Bobby has never seen Henrik so pale, practically white and looking off into space in a daze. 

His eyes land on Poppy, where she’s sat with Gary and Ibrahim, talking quietly. Her hair is already wet, curtaining her back in strands. Most likely from surfing this morning. Jesus, he can’t look at her the same after his dream this morning. The sinful images of her flicker in his mind, making his belly swoop and dip. 

Like she knows he’s looking, her gaze wanders over to him too. He smiles and she gives him a confused one back. Bobby feels so shit, he can’t hold her stare any longer and turns away again. Poppy turns back to her conversation too, uncertainty flicking over her face.

“Where the fuck is Stirling?” Gary pipes up suddenly, looking around them like he’ll appear out of thin air.

“Stirling’s not here.” A voice calls.

The group all whip around, watching as one of the other senior lifeguards, Caroline, make her way over to them. They don’t see Caroline often, her post was further along the coast. But, when they did she was desperately trying to ignore Stirling’s awkward flirting and cheesy pick-up lines. She stops in front of them, pushing her aviators up into her perfect sun-kissed hair.

 _Does every lifeguard have those,_ Bobby thinks.

“Stirling’s not here.” Caroline says again, rolling her eyes. She definitely looks like she is cursing Stirling in her head. “And, the rest of us are too busy covering his post to look after you today.”

“We’re not babies.” Lottie mumbles.

“Thank goodness.” Caroline answers, blankly. “Look -- I don’t know what’s going on with him or whatever, but,” She puts a hand on her hip, gaze scanning over the beach. “You guys can have the day off. Do whatever you want.”

Everyone naturally perks up. The very mention of a day off was like a blessing.

“For real?” Gary asks.

“Yes. Very real.” Caroline nods, sliding her sunglasses back over her eyes. “I expect Stirling will be back tomorrow, so, enjoy it.” And with that she gives a small shrug and makes her way back down the beach. 

Everyone takes a moment to let it sink in. Day off. They really are on a streak of good fortune. 

The realisation hits everyone differently. Lucas practically moans, collapsing back to the sand to nurse his hangover. Gary shoots up, pointing to everyone as he excitedly asks “Day drinking? Day drinking? Day drinking?” to which Hannah replies with “Gary, it’s seven in the morning!” Marisol and Rocco get up, ecstatic to get a surf in. Bobby watches as Hope tries to drag Poppy up from the sand, her stubbornness easing away when Hope starts whining and tugging on her arms harder. 

Bobby jumps from a tap on his shoulder.

“Huh?” He turns, faced with Priya laughing at his confused expression.

“Did you hear me?”

“Wha - no, sorry. What did you say?”

“Your birthday?” Priya says, reaching up to tuck one of his dreads back behind his ear. “Your mum and sister were going on about it last night. They wanna do something nice. Maybe we could go plan something?”

Bobby’s never been a big fan of his birthday. All the attention made his skin crawl, the idea of other people acknowledging him made him anxious enough. So being the sole focus of something didn’t often sit right with him. He’d much rather watch someone else be in the spotlight.

“Oh.” He exhales, looking down at the sand. “Yeah, maybe -”

“What’s this about a birthday?” Chelsea’s eyes light up.

“Birthday!?” Noah questions loudly just as Gary walks past.

“Who’s birthday is it?” He asks, just as enthused. 

Bobby groans, putting his face in his hands. Damn it.

“Mine.” Bobby groans.

“When?” Gary drops down beside him. “When!?”

“In a few weeks -”

“Dude, we _have_ to have a party.” Gary gasps, grabbing at his chest, getting way more excited than he should.

“We?” Bobby laughs.

“ _You._ ” Gary corrects.

Suddenly, Lottie is at Bobby’s side as well. She’s counting on her fingers looking intrigued.

“Wait - doesn’t that make you…” She pauses and sucks her teeth. “That makes you a Gemini.”

Bobby sits up straight and looks over at her, confused. What is going on. He has no idea what that means.

“What?” He frowns.

“A Gemini.” Lottie repeats. She tilts her head, squinting at him. “You don’t strike me as a Gemini.”

“Lottie, can you tell the stars to ask Bobby to throw a party?” Gary juts his bottom lip out, batting his eyelashes at her.

“Don’t joke about that.” Lottie hits him.

They continue to bicker. Noah watches on, just as confused as Bobby.

Chelsea silently rolls her eyes, leaning over to Priya to murmur something in her ear. Priya chokes on a small laugh before they both get up and make their way to the bathrooms at the entrance of the beach. Bobby watches as they go, heart hammering in his chest as their path crosses with Hope and Poppy.

Hope’s chatting like normal, blabbering on about whatever. Poppy looks way more reserved, not herself. She looks small. Her arms are crossed as she anxiously chews on her thumb like she did the other night. She can barely make eye contact with Priya, like it’s burning her up if she tries. Oblivious and with a smile, Priya is talking just as much as Hope. She’s so relaxed and at ease with herself.

Pretty soon they split off again. Bobby can’t tear his gaze away as Poppy promptly makes her way over to the tower, lifting her surfboard out of the sand and making her way to the water with Marisol and Rocco.

  
  


**

  
  


It happens again, a week later.

This time the dream was situated in the bedroom of the flashy mansion. You know the one - with the silky bedspread and extraordinary bed posts. Poppy was flat on her back, in her red lifeguard swimsuit, glistening like she’d just been in the sea for a dip. Bobby had no control over himself, hungrily lapping at her skin like he’d die without a taste.

Bobby wakes up in a sweat, less dramatic this time but just as hard. Maybe even more so from this stupid itch that just seems to be coming back with even more of a vengeance before. The bright numbers of the alarm clock are painting the room in a red glow. It ticks over to 6:11 am as he slowly sits up in bed, trying his best not to disturb Priya sleeping soundly next to him.

He’s stopped his surfing sessions with Poppy. Firstly because, well, c’mon. He could barely look at her in the face anymore. And secondly, Priya’s staying over almost every night. They’ve fallen into this new routine without either of them really acknowledging it. They’re practically spending the whole day together. They feel like their old selves again, just like when they first started this thing of theirs. It’s easy and relaxed. Now mixed with frequent orgasms. Very guilty orgasms on Bobby’s part.

Ever since the first dream, Bobby’s been a little more fidgety than usual. Well… a lot more than usual. His hormones are on the fritz. 

Every free moment alone with Priya was a blur of frantic moving hands and muffled moans as they raced to get each other off. It didn’t completely satisfy the itch but it soothed it before it flared up again. Stirling still wasn’t showing up for training, so Caroline would often step in to lead the sessions if she felt like it. If not, she’d give them the day off again. It felt like a break from their summer break.

If they weren’t running home to fool around, Bobby and Priya were slinking away during lunch, stumbling into a cubicle in the public toilets or changing room at the surf hut. If Priya wasn’t on her knees then Bobby would have her pressed up against a wall, one hand on her mouth and the other shoving her swimsuit to the side and sliding two fingers into her before thrusting them home. It was thrilling but rushed and clumsy. And just plain stupid. But, Priya was always game, loving this new daring side to him. And she couldn’t deny it felt good.

And now this fresh new dream is about to ramp it all up again. Poppy is quickly becoming his favourite worst nightmare.

Cautiously, Bobby gets out of bed, tensing the entire time and trying not to wake Priya up. He creeps to the bathroom, as quietly as he can, locking the door behind him.

He turns on the sink, dipping his hands into the cold running water and splashing his face. It has no effect, the hotness of his face only growing. The itch is still there. He can’t stop thinking about the dreams. And his body can’t seem to stop… _reacting_ towards it.

He never should’ve taken that porn tape from Noah. He is going to kill him.

He scrubs his damp face with his shirt, finding himself stuck in front of the mirror again, staring at his face like he can’t quite figure out what is staring back. He’s desperate to clean away these dirty thoughts and feelings. 

So, he turns on the shower, waiting until the room fills with steam before he hops in. Standing under the spray, he closes his eyes and tilts his face up, enveloping himself in the hot water. Every tension begins to ease out of his muscles as the water flows over his shoulders, down his back and towards the drain. He stands there, completely still and wholly immersed.

But the grime was still there. Intruding thoughts that he could suddenly feel all over him, like gentle hands snaking towards his sin. It’s like it’s burrowed into his pores. Nothing could get rid of this itch except for giving into it. And like a sucker wrapped around the devils finger, he does. 

_Just this once_ , he convinces himself. _That’s it._

He rests an arm on the tile, water pounding down onto his back and poking at the knots under his skin. He peers down at himself, his soaked dreads flop into his face as the water trickles down. Immediately, he’s embarrassed at the sight of how hard he still is. It’s so pathetic but he can’t seem to get enough. A surge of relief mixed with delight twists through him as he traces his fingers over his cock, hips jolting forward.

Biting his lip to hold back a groan, he takes a hold of himself, dissolving into it. He’s hotter than the water raining down on him, on fire from the lightest of touches. But, the thoughts in his mind are heavy, rampant with what it’d be like to kiss Poppy properly, how she’d actually sound and how’d she’d react to him. Exploring her body with slow, sweet kisses. Spreading her legs open. How she’d taste.

But, he doesn’t want to savour this. It’s so wrong in itself he’d rather get rid of the itch than be uncomfortable forever. Even more so with Priya over in the next room, passed out. He’s sure if he gives in this one time, then all these… things he’s feeling will eventually run tired in his brain and he can go back to his normal dopey self.

He takes a breath, stroking himself more deliberately with Poppy at the forefront of his thoughts. In his mind, she’s nosing at the back of his neck, arms curled around him. One ghosting over his chest as the other begins to slip down his navel. Bobby rocks forward into his fist, resting his head on his arm against the wall, already feeling that familiar tingle in his belly and legs.

Tightness blooms in his chest before releasing bliss and seeping out, the idea of her warmth and light spreading over him like crystal clear honey.

He breathes in deep, drawing in the steam around him into his lungs and out again. He catches a moan just in time, shuffling to press his open mouth against his arm on the tile. Words begin to come in pieces, ripped apart by ragged breaths as his satisfaction starts to take over, steadily rising, dick jumping in his fist. _Poppy, Poppy, Poppy._

He can feel his thighs tense, toes tightening against the slick tile on the floor. He swallows hard, back begging to arch as he pumps himself quicker and -

“ _Bobby?”_

There’s a knock at the door. Priya. _Again._

Oh, fuck. _Fuck_. Shit. He lets go of himself immediately, so startled that one of his feet slips on the floor. He grabs onto the shower handle, fumbling to keep himself upright. In his clumsy urgency to balance himself he accidentally turns the water all the way to cold.

He lets out an unruly scream as ice water begins to shower him, punching him in the face and all over his lit up body. His hands scramble trying to get the water hot again but he ends up almost burning himself. He turns the shower off completely, blinking the water out of his eyes, panting and out of breath.

Jesus christ.

That’s one way to get rid of a hard-on.

  
  


**

  
  


The third time it happens, Bobby finds himself as ansty as ever.

Poppy. A bottle of suncream. Roaming hands. ‘Nuff said.

He can’t even sit still. His whole body is buzzing and nothing seems to be satisfying him like he thought it would. His eyes are trained on where Priya is laughing and talking with Hannah over by the volleyball net further up the beach. He is waiting for the perfect moment to sneak her away. Chelsea notices him rocking back and forth on his bum and chucks half of Noah’s sandwich at his head.

“Hey!” Bobby whines as Noah yells “ _Chelsea! That’s my lunch!”_

“What are you doing?” Chelsea doesn’t even look in Noah’s direction, keeping her eyes on Bobby.

“What?” Bobby answers, eyebrows pinching together confused.

Chelsea waves a hand up and down at him. “You’re all fidgety.”

“I’m not.” He defends.

“You are.”

“Not.”

“Are!”

“He’s got the horn.” Noah says absently, biting into the other half of his sandwich.

Bobby sputters a “What!?” as Chelsea laughs.

“Mate. You’ve been gawking at Priya for, like, over a week.” Noah says. “You’re so obvious.”

“I do not have the horn -”

“Sorry. I won’t call it the horn.”

“Thank you -”

“A hankering for the spanking?” Noah tries.

Bobby kicks his leg.

“You guys sneaking off all the time isn’t exactly discrete.” Noah continues, laughing.

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Chelsea giggles, twisting to face Bobby. “I thought you guys were just... really clingy.”

Bobby scratches the back of his head. Great, not only is he obvious but he’s been completely unaware of _how_ obvious he is. He didn’t think they were sneaking off that much, but now looking back on it, it was pretty obsessive. The guilt begins to manifest again, twice as bad. 

“Can I ask you guys something?” Bobby murmurs.

“Mhm.” They both nod. “Of course.”

Bobby takes a breath, ready to take a very deep and stupid plunge.

“Like -” Bobby looks around, checking to see where Priya is. Still by the volleyball net. Awesome. His voice simmers down to a whisper as he keeps talking. “ _Sex guru_ stuff.”

He’s never seen two people scramble so quickly to get close to him. Chelsea and Noah don't even say anything, all ear and eyes as they wait for Bobby to keep talking. Fuck. Okay.

“I had a sex dream about... Poppy.” Bobby looks at them both blanky, not really believing the words coming out of his mouth.

Silence.

Chelsea looks at Noah, then Bobby and back to Noah.

Noah leans forwards, staring at Bobby the huge wide eyes. He is fighting so hard against the smile threatening to peak out. Chelsea goes to open her mouth, but Noah beats her to it.

“Was it good?” He finally explodes.

“What?” Bobby grimaces, surprised. “I’m not telling you that!”

“That means it was good.” Chelsea laughs.

“You cannot just bring up sex dreams and not expect us to ask that.” Noah continues talking like this is completely normal conversation.

Chelsea nods, like he’s right. Bobby cannot believe this is his life right now. Ugh. Fine.

“ _Fine._ ” He looks between them. Chelsea is sitting there just as expectantly as Noah. “They were good, I guess?”

“ _They?”_ Noah can’t control his volume and Chelsea slaps him over the head.

“Yes, _them_ , please focus.” Bobby lowers his voice. “I feel bad.”

“Because you liked it?” Chelsea questions, quietly.

“I mean - yeah.” He grumbles, frustrated. “It’s just... _wrong_ . My brain objectified her into this weird sex thing and… _Priya…_ ” He trails off, shaking his head with another groan. “And now - I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Objectified?” Chelsea says, amused. “That’s a big word for you.”

Bobby rips the other half of Noah’s sandwich out of his mouth and throws it at her. She bats it away laughing as Noah starts squawking in protest.

“I’m kinda impressed that you’re seeing this dream as a bad thing.” Chelsea continues.

“Why?”

“I mean... you’ve so obviously liked Poppy ever since meeting her.” She states, looking at him like he’s dumb. “I think most people are delighted when they develop feelings for someone.”

Bobby stares at her, suddenly on edge. “Feelings?”

“Oh, please -” She puts her slushie on the ground. “You are a love sick puppy.”

“Looking for a bone.” Noah adds, making himself laugh.

“Shut _up,_ dude.” Bobby smacks him again.

“Can you not just go tell her?” Chelsea asks.

Bobby cracks up.

“Good one.”

“I’m serious.” She pokes him on the leg. “Or at least… sort out whatever this thing with Priya is. Before it spirals any further.”

Bobby goes to open his mouth but Chelsea interrupts him.

“Look -” She sighs and pauses, staring at him with those piercing blue eyes. Chelsea wasn’t necessarily a serious person, but when she was it always made Bobby nervous. “You -” She jabs a finger in his bare chest. “You need to just grow some balls and talk to her. Because you’re going to hurt her if you don’t.”

That is true. There’s part of Bobby that wants to believe that this thing with Priya was going to just fizzle out naturally. But, clearly it’s going to end as abruptly as it began. He can’t keep shoving down this thing drawing him to Poppy anymore. The overwhelming itch is finally at the surface and he’s about ready to combust if he doesn’t do something about it very soon. Like, today.

Maybe if he lets Priya down easy she won’t be completely mad. In all these attempts to keep everyone happy, he’s found himself in a ditch with no way to get out without some dirty work. 

He really is the world's worst human being.

“Just do something for yourself, okay?” Chelsea adds, leaning over to squeeze his shoulder. “Because no one else is going to.”

“Yeah!” Noah excitedly shakes his fits in the air, trying to be encouraging. “Balls! Grow some!”

Chelsea smacks him again.

By the end of the day, Bobby is a jittery mess of nerves and repeating thoughts in his head. He still has no idea how to phrase it, but all he knows is that he needs to talk to Priya. To end it. He is certain he is going to vomit. They’re sitting outside the shop like normal, saying their goodbyes to Chelsea and Noah as the sun sets. Bobby watches until they’ve completely disappeared down the street before talking again.

“Hey.” He brushes his fingers against Priya’s arm, watching her face ease into a bright smile. “Can we chat?” He looks around them. “Somewhere… private?”

“Sure.” Priya nods, the amber in her eyes glow. “Tower?”

Bobby nods with a strained smile. Fucking hell, here we go.

They stroll down the beach, taking their time. Bobby keeps his eyes down, watching the grains of sand moving and shifting as his feet hit the ground. The beach and pier is relatively empty by now, the beginnings of the evening taking over and just the remaining stragglers chilling out on the cooling sand.

The sea is calm and collected, lapping at the surf gently. Complete opposite of how Bobby is feeling inside. His heart is beating like crazy, as if it’s being sucked in and out by a crazy rampant riptide.

He holds the door open and ushers Priya inside with a small smile, gently sweeping a hand over her lower back. Slowly, he closes it behind them, the latch sounding like the bell to his impending doom. This is going to be so shit. With a sigh, he turns to face Priya.

“So - I’ve been thinking -”

Bobby’s cut off immediately, with an exhilarated Priya capturing his lips and pulling him further into the room.

“Priya -” He pulls away with a gasp but she attaches her lips onto his again for more. “Priya - I’m serious, I wanna talk to you -”

“Kiss now, talk later.” She breathes, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

Her whole body presses against him, the space between them non-existent. Her hair is still wet, tickling against his shoulders and arms, freezing cold in comparison to her body. Her kisses are rampant, as if he’s highland spring water and she’s finally quenching her lifelong thirst. 

He holds onto her, trying not to enjoy it as much as he probably should when a girl like her is throwing herself on you. That he no longer wants to be with. God, _idiot._ It sounds so stupid the more he thinks about it. But he needs to do this.

“Mm, c’mon, no one's around.” Priya pulls back and whispers against his mouth. She looks up at him through her eyelashes, drawing her bottom lip through her teeth like when she’s really in the mood.

“Priya, I don’t think -”

“We’re fine, it’s fine.” She kisses him again. And again, until she’s stealing the breath from his lungs and the words in his mind begin to turn into a huge jumbled mess.

She pushes him into Stirling’s desk chair, falling into his lap and straddling him without even breaking the kiss. Her tongue soons finds his, the kiss spiraling deeper and dirtier, with little regard for their surroundings. His hands instantly find her waist, trying to keep her still as she rocks down onto him, the thin layers of their swimwear not leaving anything to the imagination.

She looks a little dazed, but excited, as she slides off the chair and drops to her knees. Sinful. Absolutely sinful. Bobby doesn’t know what to do with his face, or hands or body or anything. He just sits there, feeling like he’s going to absolutely tip out of his chair from how hard his heart is beating up into his chest.

Priya doesn’t even give him a chance to settle in as she tugs at his swim trunks and takes him into her mouth and sucks hard. Bobby practically dissolves, all his nerves tingling and pleasure suddenly blanketing him. His hands fly out to the armrests, fingers digging in and scratching into the wood, desperate for some kind of grounding.

“Priya -” He gasps. “Priya, please -”

She takes his words as encouragement, moaning around him. The vibrations are enough to make him keen, the last of his restraint melting him like a sugar cube in piping hot tea. He’s growing so quickly in her mouth, it’s downright embarrassing. She pushes herself further, eyes screwing shut as her nose touches his coarse hair. She does it again and again, throat fluttering around him.

Bobby starts to panic, this isn’t what he wants.

“Priya -”

She moans again.

“ _Priya!”_

And again.

Oh fuck, here comes the vomit. Word vomit, thankfully.

“PriyaIthinkweshouldbreakup -” It rushes out of Bobby’s mouth so fast and so much louder than he intended, he’s not even sure if either of them understand it.

Priya stops her movement completely. Bobby can’t look at her, going furiously red and basically trembling from being so petrified. His chest is moving rapidly as he pants, eyes wide as he stares ahead. All whilst she still has his dick in her mouth and blinking up at him. Neither of them move for about 5 seconds, it’s so tense in the room, he swears they’ve never been this quiet. He has never been so mortified in the whole of his life.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse there is an audible gasp outside the door and a long bang, like something heavy’s been dropped. Priya abruptly pulls off of him, making him wince up at the ceiling.

“What did you say?” Priya scowls.

“I think … “ He swallows, trying to calm his voice. Oh, shit. “I think we should break up. Or stop whatever this... is.”

The silence is killing him. It is actually killing him.

“You want to break up?” She repeats, so quietly.

He nods, still not looking at her.

Priya just stares at him, then at his dick, like she can’t really believe what is happening. Bobby can’t either. He doesn’t think anyone on earth has ever been broken up with whilst giving a blowjob. He really is the worst person in the world. Her mouth begins to open, like she’s about to talk but she starts shaking her head, grabbing her hair as she bursts into tears instead.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She says, shaking her head.

“Priya -”

“You’re a prick.” She stands up suddenly. 

Bobby rockets up out of the chair, beginning to walk after her, stumbling as he tries to pull his shorts back up. Jesus. Fuck, fuck fuck. The chair bangs against Stirling’s desk, sending a bunch of nik naks flying and falling to the ground. The little bobble hawain figurine clatters to the floor.

“No - I didn’t mean -” He grabs her arm as she reaches for the door. “ _Priya,_ I wasn’t meant to - not like _this_ -”

Oh, boy that really sets her off. Furious, she spins around to look at him, her wet hair whipping him in the face with just as much anger in her eyes. She laughs, voice cracking as she continues to cry through it. Her face is as red as the tint in her hair, just as mortified as he is.

“What? _Like what!?”_ She shouts in disbelief. “Were you _not_ supposed to break up with me? Or were you waiting for after I sucked you off?” She tries to rip her arm away from his grip, but he holds on tighter.

“Priya - please, can we talk -”

“About what? What do you want me to say?” She snaps. 

“I’m sorry - just, _please_ talk to me -”

“Screw you.” She swings the door open so forcefully the whole tower shakes.

He watches as she stomps down to the sand. Before she is too far away, she stops in her stride and turns to face him watching from the railing.

She lifts her arms and flips him off with both hands. Ouch. She turns and proceeds to keep stomping away. Shit. He can’t think of anything else to do but run after her. But, as soon as he takes a step he bangs his foot, badly, stumbling on the decking.

Cursing under his breath, he looks down to see - ah, _crap_.

Poppy’s surfboard.

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well that chapter was super raunchy
> 
> poor priya ☹️
> 
> if you are not already, pls come and join myself and other litg ff writers & artists on the r/LITGFanFiction subreddit!! it's dedicated to all things creative, brainstorming and general ff discussion! 💞💖💝
> 
> kudos, comments or shouting at me on twitter @l0singface is always highly appreciated!!!!!
> 
> THANK U FOR READING 🙈 love you all! 💕


	17. Fools Rush In

**

  
  


The reality of the situation doesn't entirely set in until Bobby is midway through his front door after walking home. Like every terrible thing he has ever experienced hits him as soon as his foot passes over the threshold.

After watching Priya disappear down the beach he is surprisingly... calm. 

The embarrassment has somehow completely subsided, now that he can no longer see her, as if she has dragged every single piece of humiliation out of the room. A newfound numbness takes over, leaving him standing there completely still and in shock. He looks down again, met with the faded lines and patterns of Poppy’s surfboard still lying on the deck.

She must’ve seen. She _must_ have. 

He bends down to pick it up and shuffles inside the hut, propping it in its proper place. He takes his time picking up the papers and whatever else has fallen off of Stirling’s desk, putting it back in relatively the same place before leaving.

The beach is practically empty by the time he leaves, just him, the sea and the imprinted white sand. He stops at the entrance of the beach, looking down the street where Priya had gone. He thinks if it were possible, there’d be a trail of melted tarmac from her blazing rage.

The numbness wavers, his real emotions threatening at the cracks and starting to peak. He feels like shit. _You’re a fuck up._ So much so that it almost begins to lure him down the road, guilty thoughts pushing him to go and try and apologise again. But, he decides against it, his brain catching itself before he gets lost in his feelings.

He knows that all he needs to do is stick his headphones on and block out the world, so naturally he does. His mind is totally blank, the only space left is filled with sweet music. He takes the scenic route home, along the coastline before it takes you into the richer residential areas. It’s a bit of a detour, but, whatever.

Gulls hang low in the hot air, floating against the orange sky as he makes his way down an unfamiliar street. He slows his pace, looking out over some of the hills adjacent to him. They’re like a patchwork of luscious green, dotted with white villas, their terracotta roofs as orange as the sun setting in the distance. They’re streaked with long, purple shadows, in faint shapes of the palm trees surrounding them. Some dips are more shallow than others, but just as beautiful. Steep pathways connect the houses, like a web for anyone to follow.

Bobby begins to walk again, when he spots a familiar red truck. Rocco’s truck. It’s far away enough that he can only see his faint shape inside. He watches it as it makes a turn into a road, heading straight for the beautiful rolling hills. Huh. He never thought of Rocco living in an area like this. No offence to him, of course. Well... maybe a little offence considering he doesn’t exactly like the guy. _4-button-down-major-douchebag_.

He makes it home by the time the sun has completely vanished behind the horizon. The door creaks as he opens and closes it behind him carefully, but not careful enough, as his mother’s cheerful voice calls out to him from the kitchen. A songbird welcoming her baby home.

“ _Hey!_ ” Beth beams as she pops her head through the open door to the kitchen. Her smile dithers into concern to see him by himself. “No Priya?”

Fuck, he didn’t even think about this. Didn’t even think about how his family is going to know he’s a fuck up too. No one loses a beautiful, caring girl like Priya without messing up their chances. Or, in his case, being a major prick. Bobby just shakes his head, taking his headphones off and setting his bag down by the door. Beth frowns without pressing on and disappears back into the kitchen. 

The sinking feeling in his chest takes over again and with one hand he rests against the wall, scared he’s going to fall straight through the floor. Straight into nothing. Bobby stalls for a second, wanting to just go up to his room and blast whatever music will drown out any thought that protrudes.

But he finds himself wanting to be next to his mother, instead. So, he pads down the hallway and into the kitchen. He can hear the faint hum of the TV in the living room. Must be Terry. Beth’s grin is so wide as he enters, you’d think she’d just won the lottery or something. She quickly pulls on his arm to plant a kiss on his forehead and cheeks, much to his disgust.

“ _Mum_ -” He whines.

“You’re taller.” She states as she steps away to get a better look at him and smoothing a hand over his cheek.

“People keep saying that.” He murmurs.

He moves over to the fridge and pulls out some orange juice. Beth is standing at one of the counters, humming to herself as she dices vegetables for dinner later. He recognises it immediately. _The Supremes_ , he thinks. _Poppy loves them._ With ease, he hops up and sits on the counter opposite, eyes not focusing as he stares into space and chugs juice straight from the carton.

“Bobby -” Beth looks over at him, with a disapproving head shake. “Get a bloody glass. Don’t drink from the carton.”

He doesn’t answer, setting the juice down next to his leg and not bothering to get up. The kitchen is warm, a mix of the outside evening heat and the array of boiling and sizzling pots and pans Beth is using to cook. He stays quiet, watching her move about as she preps. His mother hasn’t always been much of a cook, it normally fell to his father when it came to dinner. She tried her best after their split. And unfortunately for her, Terry is completely and utterly useless in the kitchen.

The silence they share is content. Mostly from Beth’s end. Bobby continues to stare down at the floor. 

“Did you like Terry when you were still with dad?” Bobby asks, out of the blue.

The question delves the content silence into outright awkwardness. Bobby has no idea why he asks it, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind. He watches as his mother tenses, slowly setting the knife in her hand down on the chopping block. Her attention remains focused in front of her, eyebrows pinching together.

“You already know that.” She answers quietly. Bobby strains to hear her over the boiling water on the stove. 

He does know that. But he’s never heard his mother say it out loud. It’s like a sin she’s never fully confessed to.

Beth has never exactly been _‘out there’_. She’s comfortable in being reserved, never feels bad about shying away from things. 

Her young adult years in 1960’s Scotland were relatively plain, considering the time. If the 50’s were black and white, then the 60’s were an explosion of Technicolour. Where others were enjoying and finding themselves, dressed up in flowery fashion and immersing themselves in new trendy music, Beth found comfort at home with a good book.

Both her parents were born and raised Glaswegians. Her father built trains and her mother a tailoress before becoming a housewife after the birth of Beth's younger sister, Katherine. They rarely saw their father, if he wasn’t at work he’d be down at a local pub, looking for answers at the bottom of a pint. 

It was far from an extravagant lifestyle. They were city dwellers, living in a tenement flat in a very run down borough of Glasgow. The beauty tended to come from the people more than the surroundings. Many of the kids that Beth and Katherine went to school with came from the breadline, just like them. Overcrowded homes and alcoholism tended to be a theme here, which drove the children outside. Kids rode their bikes and played football on the grey concrete whilst the mothers chatted with each other, teetering on the front steps of their homes as they watched. 

The white picket fence and wrap around garden with just as wealthy neighbours was a far away dream.

Katherine found a job as soon as she turned 16, wanting to meet new people and get out into the adult world. Not even a year later she moved out, engaged to a wealthy man she had only known for half a year. She achieved everything their mother could have only dreamed of in a matter of months. The house. The man. The money. And as soon as Katherine married, she barely kept in contact. Once Beth’s sister, now a complete stranger.

Beth was apprehensive every time her mother encouraged her into going into work, feigning that she wasn’t ready when she clearly just wanted to stay buried in her books. By the time she turned 20, she was practically forced. Her father’s constant drunk rambling about how she needs to be at the forefront of the family and have some responsibilities if she is still living at home were more than enough to make her find work.

So, she did. She landed herself a cashier role in a tiny record shop on the edges of the city centre. The shop was practically a box, enough room for about 10 customers at a push. It wasn’t incredibly well paid, nor was it a demanding job, But, hey, it was a job. Beth was just happy to have some change in her pocket and no longer endure her father’s complaints.

All she had to do was stock new records after a delivery and ring up customers at the till when needed. Her boss didn’t mind what she did as long as shit didn’t get broken or stolen. He only had one serious principal - no smoking. She found herself mostly staring out the windows as it wasn’t exactly a bustling business. She watched the city live and breathe as the day went by, waiting for the end of her shift. And when it hit 6 o’clock she hastily clocked out and locked up.

It was a simple living. Plain.

And then she met Bobby’s father.

The weather was as dreary as ever, a proper rainy Glasgow day. Beth sat behind the till, head in one palm and book in the other. Every time she peeked up to look outside a frown fell on her face. The shop had been empty for hours. No one in their right mind was going to be out in town right now. The wind outside scooped up soaked newspapers and scattered them across the street before picking them up again and taking them away and out of view. 

Her attention snapped up when she saw a figure duck under the alcove of the shop. They’re soaked, water dripping off their leather jacket and dark hoodie they’re wearing underneath. They rummaged around their pockets for a while until their hands emerged with a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. Her heart fluttered, panic setting in as she recalled her bosses words. She knew they were outside but she still didn’t want to risk it. And definitely didn’t want to risk losing this job. 

Frowning, Beth got up, marched over to the door and opened it.

“Excuse me -” Her voice was blocked out by the sound of the rain, practically pissing it down. She took a breath and raised her voice. “Excuse me! You can’t smoke in front of this shop!”

The person didn’t even look over at her as they sparked up and took a drag. She couldn’t see their face, blocked by the side of their hoodie.

“There’s no signs.” They said. It’s a man, his voice deep and rumbly. Beth didn’t recognise the accent but it’s definitely not Scottish.

“Well, I’m telling you. You can’t smoke here.”

Beth watched as their shoulders slumped before turning to look down at her, only to be met with the embodiment of tall, dark and handsome. He looked a little taken back as he looked at her too. Huh. She watched the cigarette dangle between his plump lips as he spoke again.

“If… I stop smoking, can I come inside instead?” Tall, dark and handsome cocked his head to the side in question. 

His gaze took it’s time as it dragged all the way from Beth’s shoes to her eyes. He didn't even wait for her to answer his question. They both watched as he chucked his just barely smoked cig on the ground and crushed it with his boot. She found herself blushing and nodding, moving aside to let him in.

Beth closed the door behind them, the noise from the rain and wind outside instantly vanished, throwing them into a weird silence. The man made his way around the shop, lit up eyes scanning all the vinyl stacked on the shelves and in the crates on the sides. 

He shoved his hood off, exposing some beautiful black dreads tied up on top of his head. Excited, he stalked over to some of the labelled crates at the side of the shop. He delicately brushed his fingers over the corners of records before flicking through them. 

“You’ve got a lot of good stuff here!” He said, elated and not taking his eyes off of them.

“Oh. Yeah?” Beth wasn’t sure what to say. She made her way back to the till and sat on the stool.

“Yeah.” He nodded, still not looking away. “Sick collection.”

“I don’t listen to music, so -” Beth shrugged and waved a dismissive hand. “I wouldn’t know.”

The only thing Beth really recognised was The Beatles records hanging up on the walls. They’re everywhere these days. She doesn’t get the hype, but she can’t deny that they must be good considering how bat shit crazy girls are going for them.

“You don’t listen to music?” He scoffs, looking over at her. 

Beth stared back and shrugged again. He’s still soaking wet, but he looked so thrilled, she’s sure that he wasn't even aware of it. Her eyes followed a drop of water, running from his hair to his temple and following the line of his square jawline before dropping off.

“Then, what do you do?” TD&H asked.

“I read.”

“You read?”

Beth held up her book sitting on the counter.

“ _Atlas… Shrugged_.” He squinted, reading the title. “Sounds thrilling.”

“It is, actually.”

“Oh, c’mon. You _work_ in a record shop and you _don’t_ listen to music?” He smiled at her, shaking his head a little.

“I think we’ve established that.” She let out a small laugh.

“Despicable.” He held up a Martha and the Vandellas album. “Not even the sweet sounds of these legends?”

“I doubt they’re legends if I’ve never heard of them.” Beth said, tilting her head at him.

He gasped, placing a hand on his chest and sucked his teeth at her. Beth laughed when he teasingly rolled his eyes, turning back to dig something else out of the crate.

He asked again, holding up a The Supremes album. Beth denied, laughing again at his mock outrage. He held up a Sam Cooke album, only to be met with the same harsh reality. Same again for James Brown. And then The Miracles.

“Woman, yuh got _a lot_ to learn.” He eventually gave up, stacking all the records back in their correct places.

“Aye. Seems I do.” She mused, smiling at him.

“I consider myself quite a good teacher.”

“Is that so?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Absolutely. No complaints.”

“ _Yet._ ” She teased, smiling.

He returned the same smile, basking in the little content silence they had going on, the only sound in the shop was the pelting of the rain against the windows. He twisted to look behind him at the door and back at Beth. He had such a nonchalant presence about him, Beth couldn’t help but feel relaxed herself.

“What time do you get off?” He asked.

Beth blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Your shift. When do you finish?”

“Oh.” She felt her heart jump up into her throat. This was new. “I finish at six.”

“Six.” He nodded and straightened up before heading to the front of the shop. He turned to face her again, just before opening the door. “I’ll see you at six.” He smirked, shooting her a cheeky wink and disappearing out the door. 

Beth sat there, completely tense, watching him jog over the street and pull his hoodie back up as he got pelted with rain. She watched until he was just a blurry dot in her vision and vanished completely. She looked over to where he had been standing and then back at the door.

What the… _hell_.

She took a breath, coming to the realisation she had been flirting with a complete stranger, for the last 5 minutes. A very handsome, charming stranger. Who is apparently coming back to the store when she finishes. _She didn’t even know his name_. And she didn’t even tell him hers. She smacked herself on the forehead. She had to laugh because, no… no way. He was probably just entertaining her, getting a kick out of chatting to some random girl before slinking away to the next one.

Beth convinced herself of that anyways. Her made up reality shattered when he returned that evening, at six on the dot.

She was just about to lock up, rooting through her pockets for the keys when she heard approaching footsteps. She glanced over, fighting the temptation to smile when greeted with a familiar face.

“Hey, stranger.” He grinned, stopping next to her.

Beth’s heart dipped in her chest, feeling weirdly comforted by the smoke smell coming off of his clothes. He was still in his leather jacket and tattered jeans like earlier today. But, his dreads were no longer tied up, sitting against his shoulders and framing his chiseled face. She never noticed before but he had a few freckles littering his nose and under his eyes, as dark and almost black as his eyes.

“Beth.” She corrected, moving over to the door, pulling it flush and beginning to lock up.

“ _Beth_.” He repeated to himself, letting her name savour against his lips. He kept smiling, looking past her shoulder in the distance. “That’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She beamed. “Do I get to learn your name?” She asked as she reached up for the shutters.

He beat her to it, grabbing the shutter and pulling it down in one swift motion.

“Where’s the mystery in that?” He challenged.

“Hmm.” Beth hummed, securing the lock for the shutters. “I don’t know. My parents never told me to talk to strangers.”

“It’s Gray.”

“Gray?”

“Short for Graham.”

“Well,” She stood up, facing him properly. “It’s nice to meet you Gray.” She held out her hand.

“You shake hands?” He laughed, but he took her hand in his own anyway. She gripped it tight, giving him a firm shake before letting go.

“Of course! And, now we’re not strangers.”

“We’re moving into some pretty serious territory then, huh?”

“Deadly serious.” She nodded. “Would be a pretty weird date if I didn’t know your name.”

“Oh?” He smirked, glimmer in his eyes. “It’s a date, is it?”

Beth’s entire face flushed. Oh, shit. She assumed. Fuck. Now she looks like an idiot. Gray must be sensing the awkwardness she is suddenly feeling, laughing bright and loud as he shakes his head.

“I’m _kidding!_ ”

“Oh,” Beth exhaled, relieved. “Thank god.”

“Of course it’s a date.”

“Do you have a plan for this so called date?”

“To educate.”

Beth smiled, waiting for him to keep talking. She sputtered out a laugh when he didn’t elaborate.

“To educate?” She asked. “That’s it?”

“I told you I’m a pretty good teacher, didn’t I?”

“I recall you saying you were _quite_ a good teacher.”

“Oh, yes. My mistake.”

“You’re not going to tell me anything else?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Gonna have to trust me.”

A silence fell between them. Beth had no idea what to say. Gray realised how out of whack his words were, considering she had no idea who he is and he’s being extremely vague. He sounded like a right creep. But, he didn’t know that Beth already did trust him.

“Uh -- listen,” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. His face fell, making Beth realise she’s only ever seen him smile up to this point. Damn, he wasn’t kidding about moving into serious territory. “I wanna take you to this club. It’s super chill. People are ace. The music is even better -”

“Oh!” Beth’s eyes widened as she clapped her hands together. “That sounds amazing.”

“It is amazing!” Gray smiled, happy that she was happy, but his tentativeness continued. “But, it’s.... it’s on a side of town that you might… not be familiar with?”

Ah. She knew exactly what he meant by that. She could see how uncomfortable he suddenly was and she understood completely. It wasn’t often you’d see a black man and white woman together around here. Not in these times. That didn’t bother her though. For a split second she wondered what her father would think and just as quickly it disappeared. 

Gray was just so oddly charming and she couldn’t seem to stop herself from completely falling into it. Not to mention ridiculously good-looking. She was sure his smile had broken a thousand hearts by now. 

It terrified her. She had never felt anything like it.

“You’ll be safe, I promise.” He hesitated before gently stroking a hand down from her shoulder to her arm. The touch was so innocent but a shiver passed straight through her. “But, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. If you’d prefer to go home, I understand.” He said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I’m more than happy to walk you.”

Beth just shook her head, grinning at him. She couldn’t believe it. Standing in the middle of the street with this guy she met only hours ago, on the verge of running off to whatever he had planned. And he was still giving her the option to go and ditch him instead. _What is happening._

This wasn’t like her, at all. She’d be halfway home by now, thinking about what book to read next, what to have for dinner or if her sister had returned her calls. But, she was comfortable right here, staring up at Gray’s face. Somehow she knew she was going to be comfortable wherever he was.

“C’mon, lad.” She rolled her eyes teasingly, like he did to her earlier today. “Live a little.” She held her arm out for him. “You lead the way.”

The smile he gave her was blinding. A heartbreaker indeed.

The night was perfect.

Gray took her to an underground Motown club. It was the type of place that you wouldn’t even know existed, unless you were deep in the scene. He led her down a corridor and then a tight staircase. The further they descended the harder her heart beat. 

Music filled her ears as soon as they stepped inside, like rushing waves filling the gaps between the grains of sand lying on the beach. The room was partially dark, saturated in red lights scattered around the room. It swept her up immediately. It was new and overwhelming, to the point where it should have scared her, but the thrill of something new was so sweet she couldn’t help but grin. 

Even when the slightest bit of panic started to slip in, all she had to do was look over at Gray. He was immediately greeted by what she could only assume were friends of his. Even in the low light, Beth couldn’t hide the blush blooming on her face as Gray jokingly introduced her as his girl. 

It wasn’t incredibly busy, but as the night went on more people came pouring in, some immediately reacting to the beats in the air and heading straight for the dance floor. Gray kept them at the quieter side of the venue, situated in a small private nook. They sat close, but not close enough to be touching. Gray’s arm lounging on the top of the booth seat was begging to wrap around her shoulders. They drank and laughed, engrossed with each other and completely unaware of the room around them.

They didn’t stay out into the early hours of the morning, but it was definitely a time that Beth wasn’t familiar with. After a constant back and forth of playful arguing, she finally agreed to let him walk her home. She found herself unable to pull away from him when they finally reached her front door. So, they broke in the pavement, looping around the neighbourhood, again and again, talking about whatever came to mind with their fingers linking in a loose grip. Each lap came with more conversation until they knew more about each other than maybe members of their own family.

His skin was so hot against her cold fingers. They both knew in an instant that fate had dealt them a dangerous hand. She didn’t kiss him goodnight, but lord, she wished she did.

The months that followed were full of apparently impromptu visits to the record shop, with Gray insisting that he just needed to pick up some new music for himself or friends. It was quite infrequent at first. He’d pop up every month or so, until it escalated to almost every other day. He’d bring her food, drink - whatever he thought she’d like. 

Sometimes he would make notes of the books she read at work and pop into the library on his way home, asking at the front desk what they’d recommend. The first time he arrived with a book instead of a piping hot tea almost made her cry. From happiness, of course.

It didn’t interfere with her work. Well, she’d like to think that it didn’t. Whenever there _was_ a customer, Gray would take the lead and ramble on and recommend all of his favourites. And, to her surprise, it worked the majority of the time. They’d both watch as a satisfied customer left with a fresh record tucked under their arm.

“You might as well be the one working here.” Beth shook her head at him.

“If I worked here I wouldn’t have an excuse to visit you.” He pouted.

Beth shoved his arm as he teased her for blushing.

Each visit built him up like a painting, adding new details and colours and strokes, until she saw a fully realised person in front of her. Something she cared about. Of course he continued to consistently taunt her for her lack of music knowledge. To the point where she would often sneak him into the back office after closing hours, letting him pick whatever album he wanted her to listen to on one of their tester record decks.

And if they weren’t listening to records, he’d take her out to clubs or a local bar that he knew always played good music. She remained poised though, not staying out too late with him, even when he jokingly whined and begged. Suspicions were growing within her parents, but she dismissed it with constant excuses of working late or going out with colleagues that she very much didn’t have. It got to the point where she’d return home from work, only to sneak out her bedroom window a few hours later when the house had settled for the night.

The seasons blended into one, the wet Glasgow spring soon became late summer. Beth finally built up the courage to kiss him after so many months of skittering around each other, during one of their late night music sessions. _Reach Out_ by Four Tops played quietly in the background as they sat on the floor together, mindlessly chatting with boxes of chinese food between them.

It was a surprisingly hot evening, the room more stuffy than usual. Beth’s ears kept dipping in and out, a rush of white noise screwing up her focus on whatever he was saying. Her stare kept falling to the collar of Gray’s shirt, where the beginnings of redness were spreading out on his warm skin. Beth was practically thrumming, even more so when she watched Gray discreetly wipe the thin layer of sweat from his forehead, move his long dreads out of his eyes and swiftly pull them into a bun on top.

“What?” He laughed at her, catching her unashamed staring.

“Nothing.” She sighed, already out of breath from just looking at him. 

It happened so quickly, neither of them knew the line had been crossed until they were well past it. She smiled wide before gently taking his face in her hands and leaning over to lay her lips on his own. Gray was completely thrown off his smooth groove. So baffled that she had kissed him first. 

But, it was so natural. Destined. He laid a hand gently on the back of her head, fingers sliding into her silky hair and pulled her closer as he kissed her back until they were both at the end of their rope. Both completely breathless as their overheated skin touched in new and exciting places.

Electric. 

Pure magic.

Beth can’t remember a time when she was happier.

Even being here, in a beautiful beach house on one of Spain’s most stunning islands. Surrounded by loved ones. Access to fortunes at her fingertips. Terry gave her the white picket fence fantasy. And yet, her conscience constantly wandered back to being sat in that stuffy, back office late at night, with music she’s never heard of gently tapping into her ears.

She continues to stare down at the chopping block, the lines and grooves of Gray’s face entering her mind clear as day, like he’s standing right beside her. It pains her, every day knowing that they let the magic die into nothing but angry words and streaming tears. A broken home. And now he’s gone, with no chance of recapturing even just a slither of what once was.

Bobby stays silent, watching his mother's shoulders rise and deflate as she lets out a shaky exhale. She leans over towards the stove, turning it off. The pot’s boiling water simmers down instantly, a cloud of steam releasing and melting into the air.

“You know I loved your father very much.” She says, turning to face him, resting against the kitchen counter.

Bobby nods, any display of emotion void on his face.

"I know." He mumbles.

“And I miss him.” She says, quietly.

“I miss him, too.”

Beth carefully wipes her hands with a dish cloth, succumbing to the silence between them. Bobby never spoke about these types of things to any one. Especially not his mother. But, whatever is brewing under the surface seems to be spilling out into uncontrollable words.

“Terry just… he just came at a very strange time.” Her voice is calm, but she can’t seem to meet Bobby’s eyes fully. “For all of us.”

“Yeah.” Bobby says quietly, averting his gaze to the floor.

The silence of the room is as pure as a blanket of snow in the coldest months of Glasgow. It makes his blood run cold. It has been one hell of a day to say the least. His brain is all over the place and he has a momentary lapse of _fuck it_ and blurts out what he’s been dreading to say this whole time.

“I broke up with Priya.”

Beth stares at him and he stares back, anxiety very much at the surface now. 

“Oh.” Her frown is more worried than anything, like she’s scared she is going to say the wrong thing.

So, she lets out a breath before stepping over to him. He’s expecting a hug, but she cradles his face instead, staring directly at him. She doesn’t say anything, not that she needs to. With misty eyes, her focus is trained on his freckles, scattered along his nose and forehead in such a similar pattern to his father’s. He can feel his eyes start to water, his cheeks beginning to flush.

Beth slides her hands down to his shoulders, smiling at him and wrapping him up in her arms. The heaviness in his stomach subsides and in that moment her arms squeeze him tighter. His breathing slows, his body melting into his mum’s arms as every muscle begins to lose it’s tension into the air.

“I’m sorry.” She sighs, next to his ear. He can hear the wobble in her voice. He doesn’t know what she is apologising for, but the strain in her voice makes him want to hold onto her indefinitely. 

“It’s alright. It was my fault.” He replies, softly.

“She’s a nice girl.”

“She is.” He nods. 

She pulls back slightly, holding onto his arms.

“There’s a but, isn’t there?” She questions.

The nausea begins to swirl around in his stomach again, head cloudy with half-formed thoughts. How is it that the women in his life are able to read him so easily? He simply nods, too ashamed to meet her eyes.

“It’s okay.” She strokes at his chin with her thumb, so lovingly like only a mother can. “I understand.”

Out of everyone he knew she would.

“Thank you, ma.” His smile is sad.

She squeezes his shoulders again, a weak smile playing on her lips as she leans over to place a kiss on his forehead.

“Right.” She sighs, stepping over to the counter with the chopping board, signally it’s time to move on. For which Bobby is thankful for, he can’t handle any more of this. “You wanna help me chop?” She asks.

“Sure.” He jumps off the counter, bumping their hips as he stands next to her.

  
  


**

  
  


Bobby is dreading training the next day. News normally travels quite fast around the group. Plus, he’s not sure if he is more scared to face Priya or Poppy.

The day goes by quite quickly, with less drama than he ever envisioned. One minute he’s in bed and the next his back is being pummeled by the blazing hot sun. Priya is a no show and Poppy might as well be one considering how distanced she keeps herself from everyone, even the likes of Lottie and Hope. She arrives later than normal but Caroline doesn’t bat an eyelid. 

The bags under her eyes are blatantly noticeable, almost purple against her brown skin. Even the way she walks is tiring, Bobby can feel almost every heavy step she takes on the sand. But, the detail that upsets him the most is that her hair is dry, meaning she didn’t even go surfing this morning.

He so badly wants to talk to her, but settles for his regular glancing over as per usual. And it kills him when she meets his eyes. Those few seconds drag out for a hellish amount of time, hot pin pricks stab at his chest. Her eyes are glassy, fogging up the beautiful brown he’s found himself lost in so many times now. She stares straight at him, her gaze so sad, Bobby is certain the sand beneath is going to crawl up the length of his legs and drag him down into nothingness.

The flash of betrayal and confusion on Poppy’s face is enough to never make him glance over again that day. Too painful. It’s so clear that she saw him and Priya. 

Caroline works them hard, running them ragged up and down the beach and finally pushing them to the limits in the water. Nothing like Stirling’s approach. Noah is practically crawling along the sand by the end of the day, he’s so exhausted. God, Bobby never thought he'd miss that pornotashe, foot loving, drug dealing, weirdo.

Bobby and Poppy’s awkward avoidance of each other continues the next day, until it becomes a few days. And then a week. It’s a strange transition. Once they were talking practically everyday and now they can’t even glance at each other without it feeling totally awkward.

By the end of the week he finds himself alone at the slushie spot, long after Chelsea and Noah have left. They tried their best to get him to come with them or just go home. Noah jokingly suggests they can watch a porn tape again and Bobby doesn’t even crack a smile. He just shakes his head, insisting he’s fine to be alone.

He waits for hours, peeking up every once and a while to get a glimpse of Poppy alone on the beach. It’s driving him crazy, scanning the horizon constantly for any sign of someone surfing on their lonesome. He knows that if she isn’t surfing in the morning then she’ll at least try and sneak one in during the evening. 

There’s some movement beside him, like the ocean breeze has just gently kissed his arm and slithered away again. But, a shadowy shape lingers over him and he turns to see Lottie suddenly standing by his side. He jumps and jolts sideways before grabbing his chest. People seriously need to stop sneaking up on him.

“Fucking hell -”

“Sorry!” Lottie snickers. “I seriously made you jump?”

“Yes -”

“That’s funny.”

“Is it?” Bobby sighs, his heart still jumping in his chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to get a slushie fix.” She points to the door of the store. “But, you look like a puppy being left out here to starve.”

Lottie plops down beside him, stretching her legs out on the pavement. She takes three seconds to compose her thoughts before turning to face him with a toothy smile.

“So.” She smacks her hands on her legs, ready to dive into conversation. “What’s going on?”

“Huh?”

“You and Poppy.” She says, plain and blunt.

Bobby just stares at her, dazed. No orderly thoughts are running through his head, just a constant loop of _fuck, shit, crap, fuck_ -

“What about me and Poppy?” He finds words eventually.

Lottie lifts one of those perfectly drawn on eyebrows of hers. It wasn’t a death glare but he knows that she is internally calling him a moron. He’s surprised she doesn’t say it out loud, to be honest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bobby tries, denying whatever she is asking him instead.

But, of course that doesn’t work. Lottie just keeps staring at him, her piercing green eyes making him squirm on the spot. Straight into the soul. She is not playing games.

“Bobby, I’m not stupid. I know you’re looking out for her.”

“Who?” He tries playing dumb again, but that just sets Lottie off even more.

“Jesus Christ -” She throws her arms up.

“I’m not _looking_ for her.”

“So - what? You’re just going to watch and not do anything?”

Bobby stares long and hard at the pavement between his legs. Yeah, that sounds about right.

“Bobby... I know we’re not exactly friends -”

“Ouch.” He frowns at her.

“But, Poppy is _my_ friend. I know _something_ is going on. You guys have been acting so weird lately, it’s driving me up the bloody wall.”

“What?”

Lotties sighs again, playing with the thin silver rings on her fingers. “I don’t want to get involved but - after you disappeared at the party, she was so off. And even before that she’s been… not entirely herself.” She continues, looking at the ground. “And you’ve both been moping around all week, not talking to each other.”

Great. He’s still super obvious.

“Like… you’re friends and suddenly you’re not?” She questions. “I know at least a little something is going on.”

“I just want her to talk to me again.”

“She will.”

“But, when?”

Lottie doesn’t have the answer for him. He doesn’t expect her to have one. None of this seems simple. All he wants is his friend back.

“Can I tell you something?” She asks quietly.

Bobby nods, looking a little unsure.

“She got super drunk at the party.” Her voice is so quiet. The most gentle he’s ever heard Lottie’s voice. “I heard her rambling outside with Rocco. About you.”

His heartbeat begins to pick up. 

Lottie makes a disgusted noise. “God, I hate him.” She scowls.

Bobby smiles to himself. The first smile he’s cracked in days.

“Me too.” He mumbles.

“I don’t know what she sees in him. The 60’s are over, man. We have progressed past hippies. He might as well go shirtless if he isn’t going to button up.”

Bobby laughs surprised and turns to face her. Oh my god, _major douchebag_. He excitedly grabs her arm.

“ _Yes!_ ” He shouts. “Like, we get it. You have a hairy chest and high-self esteem. At least comb your hair or something.”

“And the beads -” Lottie is cracking up. “God forbid if he forgot the beads!”

“You ever noticed how small his nipples are?” Bobby giggles, trying not to grin too much. But, it’s no use, it’s just so stupidly hilarious.

Lottie cries with laughter, grabbing his arm as well, jostling him as she nods quickly. 

“Oh my days -” She wheezes. “Like buttons.”

Bobby coughs, pitching his voice a little bit lower and puts on his best Rocco smoulder.

“Dude, like, you know you shouldn’t drink coffee right? It’s so bad for the environment. I’m making the switch to green tea. It’s full of these, uh, antioxidants and shit, bro, it’s pretty sick -”

“Oh my god!” She hollers. “And then he goes around driving that piece of crap, pumping fumes into the air like it’s not killing us.”

Still laughing his eyes scan over the beach again. It’s completely empty now, the sand a gentle hue of white gold and the sea almost a deep green from the seaweed tickling the seabed under the water. Lottie joins him in watching the view, her giggles dying down into a content heavy sigh. She smiles to herself when the wind whips past, caressing her blonde hair up into the air for a second and dropping it again.

They continue to have a little back and forth. Bobby keeps trying his best at Rocco impressions, as Lottie chokes on her slushie.

And then finally it happens. 

She’s a faint dot on the horizon, but Bobby can spot Poppy’s signature yellow cossie from a mile off. Both of them stay silent as they watch her face the waves by herself. Everytime she wipes out, she looks dejected as she gets back on the board. Which isn’t a normal occurrence for her. Even from far away, Bobby can tell she’s cursing herself out, like she sometimes does when her footing isn’t completely up to scratch. 

She’s not in the water for long, maybe less than an hour. Bobby’s been so caught up in watching her, he forgets that Lottie has been by his side the entire time, just as silent.

“So, are you gonna do it?” Lottie gently pokes him on the arm.

“Do what?” He questions. His heart is beating like crazy, knowing she’s pushing him to go over there.

“Bobby, I shouldn’t even be here telling you what to do.” Lottie says, facing him and shaking her head.

They watch as Poppy exits the sea, slowly making her way to the tower with her board. She’s dragging it behind her, like it’s made of bricks.

“You’re such an idiot.” Lottie laughs, eyeing him up. “ _Go._ ”

“Go?” Bobby scowls.

“Yeah. _Go get her._ You want her, don’t you?”

Every single thought he’s had in the past few days have been a disorderly mess. But the underlying factor is that they all narrow down to this one girl. He turns back to infront of them again, transfixed as Poppy makes her way up the ramp to the lifeguard tower. 

He can’t find his voice, blush spreading out on his face and stomach knotting. His heart is like a kick drum, every single beat harder than the last one as it pounds his ribcage. It rings in his ears, so strong that his thoughts are completely lost again. But he doesn’t need them, his body already telling him exactly how he feels about her. Everything becomes so painfully obvious.

He can’t believe how much he likes her and how much time he’s wasted leading up to this point. The beat of his heart is stronger just from the idea of going over and talking to her. What else is a heart for, other than to experience this thrill of affection? He prays that her heart beats for him too. 

He’s up on his feet, before he even realises, knowing that - _yes_ … he wants her.

And he’s going to go get her.

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'alls!!
> 
> i've been wanting to write about how bobby's parents met for agggeeess, i hope you like!
> 
> it's been so hard to focus with everything that is going on right now. i love every single one of my fellow black creators and black readers. you mean more than 'matters'. you're special, loved and important 🖤 please stay safe!
> 
> if you are not already, come and join myself and other litg ff writers & artists on the r/LITGFanFiction subreddit!! it's dedicated to all things creative, brainstorming and general ff discussion! 
> 
> kudos, comments or shouting at me on twitter @l0singface is always highly appreciated!
> 
> thank you for reading 🖤


	18. Where Angels Fear To Tread

**

  
  


Bobby doesn’t even think twice as he pelts it down the beach, watching as Poppy disappears into the hut of the tower, the door closing behind her.

He can hear a faint ‘woop!’ coming from Lottie behind him, until there is nothing but the sound of wind rushing past his ears the faster he runs.

For a second he is reminded of his second day of training. The sand flying up into the air behind him, as he sprinted down the beach wrapped up in Chelsea’s towel. And tried for the life of him to hide a hard-on induced just by _looking_ at Poppy. So pathetic. But, who can blame him? Her compromising position and his hormonal mess of a brain were a dangerous combination.

It is weirdly hilarious to him how he is running down the beach for very different reasons, but again, the underlying factor being this one girl.

He arrives just at the bottom of the ramp when she walks back out the door, soaked hair tied up on her head and salt water seeping through the shorts she’s thrown on.

She’s oblivious at first, taking a step and then realising someone’s down below, eyes going wide when she gets a good look and realises it’s him _._ He can see her tense, hands spread out by her sides like she’s just been caught out. Her face is totally panicked, eyes darting everywhere around her realising she’s actually trapped. Bobby swears for a second that she is contemplating jumping off from the railing and making a run for it.

He opens his mouth, ready to say whatever comes to mind. He’s so tired of carefully choosing his words. But, nothing comes out. He just stares at her, looking like a fish.

“What?” She demands and holds her hands up, done with waiting for him.

“You’re avoiding me.” He finally says, walking up the ramp towards her.

Poppy shakes her head, totally unconvincing from how nervous and annoyed she looks. He feels super shitty putting her in this position but he _has_ to talk to her. Nothing has felt right ever since they’ve been on their silent streak.

“No, I’m not,” She shakes her head, scowling. Her arms fold in front of her chest, self-conscious in front of him for the first time.

“Poppy,” He stops about a foot in front of her. She backs up until her butt hits the wooden railing. “I haven’t seen you in over a week.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Busy avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you.” She tries again. Her nose screws up in the way that Bobby normally loves. His heart sinks knowing she’s angry at him and it’s his fault.

“Yes, you are.”

“Why do you care? You started avoiding me first!”

That is partly true. Well, completely true. But, given the _explicit_ content of those dreams, there was _no way_ he was able to look her in the eyes, let alone hold a conversation. And it’s not like he can explain it to her or come out and say ‘ _Hey, I had a dream about you sucking my dick and I liked it’._ She would probably start running for the hills.

“It’s… complicated? I didn’t mean to -” He starts again.

She holds up a dismissive hand. “Bobby, please, I’m tired. I just want to go home.”

“Not until I talk to you.”

“There’s nothing to talk about -”

“You haven’t spoken to me in over a week.”

“So?”

“So?” Bobby stares at her with wide eyes. “What do you mean _so?_ ”

Poppy tenses, annoyance dialing up. He’s losing her as quickly as sand falling between spread fingers.

“ _So_ , as in move right now, or I am _so_ going to deck you.”

“ _Not until you talk to me -”_

“Jesus Christ, Bobby -”

“What? Is that too much to ask?”

“No!”

“Then, what? Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Bobby, please can we just leave it -”

“I’m serious!” He says, raising his voice.

“ _Jesus!_ ” She yells. “I saw your cock in her mouth!” Her voice simmers down but the anger is still very much there. Her arms flail around, trying to find more words. “Is that what you want to talk about!?”

Bobby completely freezes. A flock of seagulls milling about on the sand are suddenly startled, quickly scrambling to fly up and away. God, he wishes he could do the same right now.

“ _Poppy -_ ” Bobby moves towards her, trying to shush her. She shakes his hand off her arm when he reaches out to calm her down.

She huffs. “I haven’t told anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“What? No, _no_ -” He shakes his head. “I don’t care about that. What you saw, it… it wasn’t what it looked like -”

“I think it was pretty apparent what was going on.” She glares at him. 

They stand in silence for a moment, the only sound between them is the ocean in the distance, fizzling as it laps up against the surf and slinks back into the sea.

“I just thought that -” She gestures between them, cutting herself off. She takes a shaky breath, blinking away the tears threatening to spill at the corners of her eyes. “I… we -” She shakes her head.

_We._

“... We?” He asks quietly, trying to prompt her to talk again.

“It doesn’t matter.” She says, looking past his shoulder. She tries to take a moment to compose but looks more upset than before. “Just - I _don’t_ want to talk to you. I _want_ to go home.” 

She pushes at his chest, moving him aside and walking down the ramp to the sand. A picture perfect replica of Priya walking away from him over a week ago. It tears him up. He doesn’t care about anything else right now. The kiss. The flirting. The dreams. Nothing. All he wants is his friend back.

“Fuck.” He pinches the bridge of his nose.

So much for going to go get her.

He’s not letting this happen again, he’s not going to stop this time. He can hear Lottie’s voice. _You want her, don’t you?_ And he does, so bad. Bobby bolts after her, running as fast as he can on the sand. He skids to a stop in front of her, holding his hands up when she rolls her eyes and tries to walk around him.

“Bobby, I’m being serious -”

“ _I’m_ being serious.” He shoots back, starting to walk backwards as she marches on. “I’m not letting you just walk away from me.”

“I will deck you, for real.” She mutters as she stops in her path.

“Well, if that’s what it takes for you to _talk_ to me -- then fine.”

He holds his arms out, looking straight at her and pointing at his face.

Annoyed, Poppy just folds her arms, frowning at him. She looks so mad, he is certain that she really is going to swing for him. It wouldn’t surprise him at this point. But, he doesn’t care. Bobby crosses his arms as well, waiting. Poppy raises an eyebrow. Bobby raises an eyebrow too, frowning just as dramatically. She puts her hands on her hips. He does the same. She tilts her head, as if to say _really?_ He copies her again. _Really_ , he glares right back at her. Poppy sighs, so he copies her again.

It feels like a little victory when Bobby catches how hard she is fighting the smile threatening at the corner of her lips.

“If you don’t want to talk to me then that’s fine. You don’t have to say shit.” Bobby says, filling the silence for both of them. “Just…” He trails off, taking a second to look around them. The sea is a lot calmer than how he is feeling and the light is beginning to disappear from the sky. “I just want to talk to you again. I want us to be friends.”

Poppy stays completely silent, just staring at him. The way her eyes go soft for a second makes Bobby’s chest squeeze tight.

“Me too.” She replies, staring at the ground.

“Let me walk you home or something.” He suggests.

He so badly wants to hug her, but pretty sure she’s not joking about punching him if he gets close. Her annoyance flares up again, but she shakes her head defeated, before speaking quietly.

“Fine.” She mutters. “But, no talking.”

“No talking.” He nods in agreement.

Fine. He can do that for her. 

She holds her hand out and he shakes it, squeezing tight. _Deal._

They take a moment to breathe, looking at each other before their hands slip out of it’s grip. They start walking, side by side now, heading for the street. 

They pass the noticeboard, where someone is pinning up flyers. Bobby recognises them straight away, given it was basically his first interaction at this beach. They look freshly printed, the blurry face of the same missing person staring right at him. 

He chances a glance over at the shop, where another person is sticking the same missing person flyers on the window. Lottie is long gone, just a small blue stain on the concrete from her slushie. Further down the street someone else is stapling them to a telephone pole.

They walk along the coastline, the same route that Bobby took home the other week after the whole Priya fiasco. He shakes that out of his mind pretty quick. Poppy keeps her eyes trained on the pavement, whilst he looks over at the ocean. The further away they get, the more beautiful he finds it, truly fascinated by the way the waves are now softly crashing into the rocks of the cove.

Then, to his surprise, they end up on the same street Bobby also walked down. With the same big beach houses and rolling hills view in the distance. His stride completely stops when they cross the road, turning down the street where he saw Rocco’s red truck drive down.

Oooh… fuck.

Poppy stops as well, realising he’s not beside her anymore. She turns and lifts an eyebrow at him. A silent question floats from her to him, confused as to why he’s just loitering there. He can feel his palms starting to sweat, reasling _why_ Rocco was driving down here the other day. 

God. It makes him sick just thinking about it. Bobby’s come to the conclusion that he really, _really_ hates that guy. And he knows it’s purely from jealousy. Sure, Rocco is a bit of a dick. But, this just flared up even more conflicted feelings.

For a moment, he sees himself just walking off. Leaving her to go home by herself like she originally wanted. But, he can’t leave her. Their friendship is seesawing on a ledge, and if he walks away now he is sure it is going to go flying off to crash and burn. Their friendship is more important to him than how he feels. The risk is just not worth it.

He so desperately wants to tell her that. She ignites a fire in him that he's never felt for anyone else, wanting to nurture that flame until he can't anymore. Even if the flame is small he wants it. She's too important to him now. It scares him to even think about.

And the thing that kills him the most is that he doesn’t even want it to be a friendship. 

This whole no talking deal is really fucking with his plans.

Their pace gets slower the longer they walk, realising they don't have much time together until Bobby leaves her at her front door. They’re practically dragging their feet as they walk up the path to her home. Behind them there is clattering noise, until a sweet voice calls out. He looks over his shoulder to see an old woman, leaning out her window and waving Poppy over.

“Maya!” Poppy squeals, excited.

Poppy throws him a sorry look over her shoulder as she runs over. They speak in low voices, not that it matters anyway, Bobby doesn’t understand a word of spanish coming out of either of their mouths. Poppy’s is more broken than the old lady’s, but it makes Bobby’s heart sing knowing that she’s trying. 

He catches Poppy turning to look at him, then back to the woman who starts giggling. He rings his hands together, looking at the surroundings and trying his best not to eavesdrop. But it’s so hard not to. His eyes are trained on some red carnations when his ears prick up significantly. 

The woman ums and ahs for a moment. She sounds like she’s struggling, trying to find the right word before dropping the only piece of english into conversation. _Handsome._ Immediately, it’s followed by Poppy’s shushing and manic panicking hands as the woman just keeps laughing and shaking her head at her. 

They say their goodbyes, short sweet kisses on each cheek. Poppy walks back over to him, a newfound skip in her step, a whole new smile on her face. She looks completely different. But, it fades when she reaches him. Like she’s stepped back into her reality. He feels even worse, knowing that it’s because of him as she shoots him a half-assed smile instead. She walks past and up the steps to her door as Maya waves goodbye. Bobby turns, giving a singular wave back, finding himself mirroring Maya’s wide grin.

God. The walk up to the door is nerve-racking. As soon as Poppy gets her key in the lock and pushes the door open he expects her to turn around and say... _something_. Anything. Hell, he wouldn’t even mind if she did actually punch him. But, instead she steps inside, leaving the door wide open behind her. Bobby watches until she disappears down a hallway and some lights flick on.

His legs feel so heavy all of a sudden. Should he follow? He stalls there for ages, staring down the hallway until Poppy pops back into frame, waving him in. Phew. Okay. The noise of outside dies, leaving him in complete silence as he gently closes the door. Trying his darndest to stay calm he walks in, listening to the faint tinkling of Poppy further inside. Each step solidifies his nerves, racking up as he steps into this new world.

It shouldn’t feel weird. She’s been in his house before. But this is a whole new side that he hasn’t seen yet. And even in her most vulnerable she is offering it to him.

On his left is a small lounge area and to his right a kitchenette, separated by some counters with stools tucked under. Bookshelves line the back wall with a TV set situated dead centre. The shelves are stuffed with more music and tapes than actual books, he can’t tear his almost lustful gaze away. He hasn’t seen this much music since going through his dad’s collection.

There are plants lining the bright window sills in the kitchen and every other surface that’s drenched in sun spots. The greenery compliments the light of the room, like the plants belong there more than the actual furniture. This girl has calatheas and monsteras up the wazoo.

Poppy stands against the kitchen sink, watching him with a small frown, fidgeting with the hem of her shorts. Neither of them know what to do. Obviously, in these moments speech tends to fill the awkwardness. Bobby gives her a strained smile, nodding over to the music lining her shelves, asking silently if he can have a gander. Her frown eases into a small smile, looking relieved almost before she nods and grins. He grins back. She gets him.

Bobby gets lost in the music. Literally. There is so much of it here, he can’t really believe it, some even dating back as far as the 60’s. His hands freeze as he comes across a Diana Ross record, the sleeve is so worn and faded. One of Poppy’s favourites. He stays entranced there for so long he doesn’t even realise Poppy has left the room until he hears a faint click of a door closing and a shower beginning to run. His head shoots over in the direction of the noise, chest suddenly sinking.

Eventually, he reaches the end of the impressive collection. He frowns, looking around for anything else to distract himself with. But, he gets bored waiting, wandering down the hall towards the back of the house. 

He peers through the crack of a door, very slowly pushing it open as to not make too much noise. Instantly he frowns, to be met with the very bare minimum for a bedroom. It looks so dreary. Bed, wardrobe and a vanity dresser. It looks too pristine to be lived in. But, maybe Poppy is a neat freak at home. Who knows.

A layer of dust sits on the vanity, fluffy like the white snow that often coats the coldest parts of Scotland. Everything looks like it hasn’t been touched in months. Maybe even years. Next to the mirror sits an old jewelry box, already open but completely empty. The cushiony insides are also coated in dust, like it’s been sitting open here for a while.

His focus shoots over to a worn out picture tucked into the frame of the mirror. Poppy holding… a baby? He recognises that smile anywhere. Well, he thought he did. It looks exactly like Poppy at a glance, almost a carbon copy. The same eyes and curly hair and beaming grin. But, the wrinkles next to her eyes and on her forehead are a little deeper and the curve of her nose is different. Not like Bobby pays attention to these things or whatever.

He realises now that he is not in Poppy’s room - but her mother's.

He moves over to the other side of the room, where the bed sits next to the wardrobe. He peeks into the slightly ajar door, frowning to see there are no clothes inside. Still strange. The bedspread is tucked in perfectly and the pillows look almost solid from how fluffed up they are. But, he can smell how clean the sheets are, like they’ve been washed recently. It doesn’t make sense for a room that’s almost empty.

The faint hiss of the shower stops, making Bobby tense. He panics for a second, spinning a quick circle making sure everything is in it’s proper place before dashing out the room and back to the lounge. He practically dives onto the sofa, bouncing a little. 

Poppy returns from the bathroom a little while later, dressed down in a big t-shirt and pyjama bottoms swinging by her ankles, hiding all the dips and curves of her figure. If you didn’t know her you would have no clue. But, the warm sensation in his chest is all the same, as Bobby gets a look at her. She’s a little damp still, pink around the edges and a flush high on her cheeks. But, she looks so fed up, the bags under her eyes an ugly reminder that she clearly isn’t okay.

So badly, he wants to make it better. But, has no idea how except for keeping his mouth shut like he promised. He’s not even sure what ground they’re on right now.

She stands in the middle of the room, her stance so tense she looks like she’s going to zip off in any direction and make a run for it. He’s sure he’s going to see a Poppy shapes hole in the wall in the next 10 seconds or so. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Right on cue his stomach rumbles loudly, the gurgling sound unapologetic as it rings around the room. Poppy looks at him wide eyed, her lips stretching out into a thin line. Not a smile, but not a frown either. Bobby will take it either way. She looks him in the eye, pointing behind her with her thumb to the fridge. Bobby starts making a fuss of it, shaking his head and waving his hands, silently mouth a no. 

Poppy just rolls her eyes and raises an eyebrow, as if to say _Bobby_.

He does the same. _Poppy._

The sides of her mouth curl up. She doesn’t give him another chance to protest, before turning into the kitchen and rooting around the cupboards. He walks over too, leaning against the counter and waiting. She startles as he gasps, ecstatic. Too excited to realise he’s stepped up close behind her, reached over her head to grab a tin too high for her to reach. She turns to face him, laughing at his elated face. 

_Spaghetti hoops,_ he traces his finger over the label. She cocks her head to the side, confused.

“My favourite.” He mouths silently.

Her smile is just as amused as his, for very different reasons. Bobby can’t help himself, pure joy spilling out of him from his favourite childhood snack. And Poppy, from the look on his face alone. She takes the tin from his hands and shoos him away to sit on the stool around the other side of the counter.

So, he does, resting his head in his palm as he watches her move about the kitchen. He tries his best not to stare too much, forcing himself to look at the wall or the mismatched magnets on the fridge door. But, the scene in front of him is so much better. She carefully dumps the tin into a pot on the stove and flicks it on. She even toasts him some bread and takes her time to butter it. 

Her generosity overwhelms him. He doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment, especially not from her right now. It evokes a brutal punch of emotion straight through him. Completely different to the fire he normally feels. Something new.

Suddenly there’s something in front of him that he really cares about and doesn’t want to lose it.

He’s so deeply lost in his daze that he doesn’t clock her plating up and bringing it over to him until the clink of the plate and cutlery echoes up from the counter. Bobby blinks, his eyes falling down to a perfect plate of toast and spaghetti hoops. He feels as gooey as the melted cheese she’s grated on-top.

“Thank -” His gratitude is almost out of his mouth before he realizes. 

Poppy whips around to look at him, wide eyed. He straightens up, biting his tongue. She jokingly points over to the door with a hand on her hip. He grins back before dramatically sealing his lips.

Thankfully, she turns away and busies herself as he eats. It would be pretty weird to watch him eat, especially with this no talking pact thing they have going on. When she does catch his eye again he’s in the middle of running the soggy bread through the tomato sauce before stuffing it in his mouth. 

She wrinkles her nose at him, faux disgust on her face before she pokes her tongue out at him. He does the same, forgetting the mess of food in his mouth until it comes back out. She cracks up, slapping a hand over a mouth before her full laugh comes out. That little bit of reservedness seems to be slipping, as her smile is more apparent on her face.

When he’s done, she makes a move for his plate, falling short as he snatches it out of her reach and giving her a big frown. He bumps her out of the way as he walks over to the sink, gently pushing her towards the lounge.

It’s so weirdly domestic. Neither of them realise how easy they’ve fallen into it. And without the use of words too.

He watches as she pulls different VHS tapes from a shelf, twisting around and holding them up to him with raised eyebrows. Most of them he doesn’t recognise, meeting Poppy’s questioning eyes with a shrug or a head shake until she pulls out the next one. He flops down onto the couch as she gives him a 1000 megawatt grin, holding up the tape for ‘ _Jaws_ ’. Bobby’s face drops and he rolls his eyes at her. _Still overrated_ , he thinks.

She makes a little happy noise as she grabs another one and presents him with the next choice. He leans forward slightly in his seat, squinting to read the title on the front. ‘ _An American In Paris’_ … _never heard of it._ But, the smile on Poppy's face is so hopeful, he wonders what the film has to offer. So, he points to it, an eyebrow raised in question.

She goes to speak, a small noise stopping midway out her throat, when she remembers their little deal. Instead, she bites her lip, looking down at the case in her hands before looking over at Bobby again.

Poppy nods, before silently mouthing the same words he did “My favourite. _”_

Fuck. His heart aches, staring at her. The happiest she’s looked in days. He gives her a solid nod, trying to fight the giddiness in his face. Quickly, she pops the tape in, rushing to turn the lights off and ambling over to the sofa to plop down next to him.

Only when the opening credits start to roll does he realise what he’s put himself up for. Bobby’s never ever found himself watching a musical on his own accord. But, now he’s here, wondering what Poppy is so chuffed about. The tiredness in her eyes can’t compete with how happy she looks, her eyes crinkling at the edges from her smile. He can’t help but force himself to try and concentrate. He wants to try for her as best as he can.

Suddenly, there’s tap dancing and lots of children and singing and whatever. He thinks the main character is called Jerry? Who knows. Bobby pushes down his smile, trying not to look over as Poppy wiggles her toes in time to the dancing on-screen. It’s stupidly cute.

He’s trying his best to focus, but his senses are so on edge, everything in the room is crashing down on him at once. The soundtrack playing behind the film begins to escalate, brass and violins swelling as the music hits a peak. He can feel his heart beat in time with the crashing cymbals. The heat Poppy is giving off next to him is ridiculous, almost like an invitation. And the way her flowery shower gel is floating off her skin and into the air for him to breathe in isn’t helpful either.

Not aware, he keeps pinching and fidgeting with the fabric of the cushion they’re sitting on. To her, the tapping of his fingers sounds louder than anything else in the room. Her hand drops from her lap to the sofa, smoothing over the cushion with her fingers. Out the corner of his eye he can see her focusing ahead, but she’s biting the inside of her cheek, like she’s distracted by something else.

It’s hard to tell in the darkness, but he’s sure the side of her mouth twitches up into a smile for just a second. He’s got no idea what’s happening in the film anymore. His heartbeat is in his ears, everything on screen looking like a blur of colour and light. The noise of the TV is completely lost to his ears, it might as well be turned off. Her hand is just _sitting there,_ like an offer. A small doubt sets in, convincing himself in seconds that he’s falling into a trap instead.

Poppy shifts again, getting comfortable on her legs. He can feel the warmth she’s giving off, even more intense than before. And just as quick, the warmth turns into a blazing heat as she carefully presses the side of her hand to his before hooking their pinky fingers together. 

Jesus. It burns him, in the best possible way, the blazing heat quickly spreads all over his body and simmers as it settles. The silver light from the TV dances against their hands, illuminating these new shapes he’s never seen before. Not until she moves again does he realise how long he’s been staring down, his gaze snapping up to find that she’s smiling over at him.

The look he must be giving her must scream confused, as she snickers before simply rolling her eyes. He can hear her calling him an idiot in her head from here. She moves again and intertwines their hands as she lightly rests her head on his shoulder. 

All Bobby can do is stare at her fingers perfectly completing the spaces between his own. Perfectly balanced. He watches as she situates their hands against her chest, letting out a deep sigh. Nervous doesn’t even touch the surface of how he’s feeling, sharing their space together in the dark. But, each touch feels better than the last, somehow bringing him peace on top of the dread he normally feels around her.

For the first time ever he thinks she’s also nervous, her heart beating so hard in her chest he can feel it rattle against his hand. He sits there, convinced there is nothing better in the world than this. No more being dragged into the dark, but instead rising up to the light. Everything begins to feel like it is going to be okay.

They stay there together for the best part of over an hour, the film unfolding in front of them, full of more singing, tap-dancing, painting and even more singing. Bobby can’t seem to quite figure it out yet, but it’s so old-school Hollywood, he can’t resist loving the cheesiness of it. That and Poppy trying to retrain herself from dancing is too much. The old orchestral music makes his heart swell and the bright, colourful sets trick his mind into dreaming of what Paris is really like.

Soon enough, Bobby is entranced, watching as a dejected Jerry sits at a cafe table, rambling about this new love of his life. It hits a bit too close, watching this grown man infatuated with this french woman he’s known for practically a week. Who, unknowingly to him, is also engaged to someone else.

“ _Sometimes we have a wonderful time together... and other times it’s no fun at all. But, I gotta be with her._ ”

And when he confesses his undying love to her later that evening, she replies with a confession of her own - the fiancé she’s been keeping a secret the entire time. A fiancé that’s whisking her away to America.

Ouch.

Poppy is still a weight on his shoulder, her breath steady on his naked arm. The film dips slightly, making the room completely silent. That until Poppy lets out a quiet snore. Bobby tenses, trying not to laugh. It sounds like a snort, and when she does it again he realises she’s fast asleep against him.

He cranes down a little to get a look at her face. Her eyes are closed, eyelashes fanned against her skin. Her brows are screwed up and lips twisted in a pout. Even in her sleep she looks perfect. 

Carefully, he leans over to the table and grabs the remote, pausing the film. Now he has to figure out how to detangle himself from the mess of Poppy slumped on him. She’s still gripping his hand, so tight he can feel sweat sliding between their palms.

He shifts again, turning as much as he can trying to find a pillow to replace himself with. Maybe he can ease her down to the sofa if he moves. But as soon as he reaches out for one, Poppy suddenly rockets up, their heads bumping together hard with a loud hollow sound.

“ _Ow!”_ She yelps as he winces, both of them jerking away from each other.

Shit, she must be tired. She looks so disorientated looking around her own home as she rubs at her head with fever. Until her eyes land on Bobby’s.There’s a mix of relief and confusion, and finally happiness, realising he’s not left. She suppresses her laugh, watching him smooth a palm over his forehead, where she smacked into him.

Man, she’s even more gorgeous when she’s just woken up. The sleep marks plastered along her face and arms accompanied with her wild curls spilling out of the bun on her head are quickly becoming some of Bobby's favourite things. Something to add to his list.

He reaches up, not thinking too much of it, as he carefully plucks one of the loose curls in front of her face and tucks it neatly behind her ear. She smiles at him, the sleep in her eyes replaced with ease and… something else he can’t pinpoint. His fingers linger for a moment, feeling the skin behind her ear become increasingly hotter. Her nails dig into his hand, squeezing even tighter.

The desperation to use words is indefinable. He knows they’re there, sitting at the back of his throat, ready to unleash and cause some kind of havoc. Whether it ends badly or not, he still wants her to know.

_I like you._

And he knows even _that_ isn’t enough. He more than likes her. He cares about her. But, he’s terrified, wondering if he opens his mouth she is going to hide away again and shut him out. Or worse, not utter the same thing back. He’s lucky to be here in the first place. Even more so with the position he’s in.

He wants her. Fuck. _He wants her_. And if he isn’t able to say those words out loud then maybe he can show her.

To his surprise, her gaze doesn’t shy away from him, letting it fall over the details of his face before landing on his lips. He watches as her eyes snap up to his again, her eyelashes looking huge and stunned, thin shadows behind from the light being cast from the TV. From the way she’s looking at him he is certain she wants him too.

His heart stops for a second before picking up again, tenfold the previous speed. 

She breathes out her nose, her exhale shaking as it rushes out. Neither of them move, frozen in place, something holding them both there. He looks down at where their hands are joined, their grip so tight like if they were to let go this... _thing_ happening is going to shatter into a million pieces and they won’t be able to put it back together - and they both know it.

Slowly, he drags his hand from behind her ear to her cheek and when he cups the side of her face she melts into it. But, her eyebrows pinch together like she’s in pain. Confused and hurting that he’s touching her in the most gentle way. He traces over her bottom lip with his thumb, their hot skin dragging against each other’s until he slides it down to her chin. 

He has no idea where it comes from and from the stunned look on her face, she doesn’t expect it either. And still neither of them back away from it. 

She shakes their hands out of their sweaty grip, moving even closer. Hesitant at first, she places her hand on his arm, testing the waters almost. Feather light, she glides her hand up, watching her fingers cast shadows over his freckled skin. 

Her eyes are half-lidded, her gaze in a daydream state. He’s seen that look before. In his dream. Right before she kissed him. And as if on cue, she risks a glance at his lips again and back up to his eyes, knowing that he is watching every single expression flicking over her face.

God, everything in him is screaming to say something. Anything. _Poppy - I like you._ _So much. Too much._ She closes her eyes, overwhelmed but unable to push herself away. Bobby watches as she lets out a deep breath, making his heart stop in his chest again. Fuck, he wants to kiss her. He has to.

When she opens her eyes again, the fire is there, staring deep into his own. Her mouth is already waiting, like a desperate plea. As soon as they step over that line, they won’t be able to go back. His fingers resting under her chin pull her closer and as if by instinct she leans forward into him. Bobby feels the urge overtake him too, meeting her halfway, their noses just barely touching.

Just when all feels right, just as the lush curves of her pink lips barely brush against his, there’s a faint noise at the front door, before it swings wide open. It claps against the wall in the hallway so loud, scaring them both.

“Penelope!” A voice calls.

Poppy jolts so far back away from him, she ends up flat on her back on the other end of the sofa. The room is doused in brightness as the lights are flicked on. Poppy’s up and disappeared before Bobby can blink again, legs carrying her down the hallway to the door.

“ _Mum_ -” Poppy whispers, just loud enough for Bobby to hear.

There’s a bunch of hushed noises before their voices go incredibly quiet, communicating without noise almost. How familiar. He looks down at his hands and back up, trying to puzzle what the fuck has just happened. All those millions of pieces are there, strewn out. Impossible for them to put back together.

“Oh, you’re new.” The same voice says, much closer this time.

Bobby whips around, meeting with a recently familiar set of eyes. From the photograph. Shit, she really is a carbon copy of her daughter. Or... techinically it's the other way around. 

“Oh -” He swallows hard. “You must be -”

“Yes, Poppy’s mother.” She waves a hand. She doesn’t say anything else before disappearing further into the house.

Jesus, it’s incredibly awkward. She’s not even in the house for all of five minutes before she strides back to the door, not even turning to say goodbye to Bobby. He stares at the screen of the TV where the image is stuck on Jerry wistfully looking off over a set of stone steps. Poppy’s voice comes into earshot again, but too quiet for him to make out. There’s a few words exchanged between her and her mum before the door opens and closes.

Bobby can hear his blinks, that’s how quiet it is.

Poppy comes strolling back into the lounge, looking even more dejected than she did this morning, collapsing onto the sofa with thud.

More silence. 

The quietest they’ve been the entire time.

“Your full name is Penelope?” Bobby questions, his voice sounds so loud, cutting into the air that hasn’t been touched in hours.

Poppy rolls her neck on the back of the sofa, looking over at him with a frown. Then her face lights up.

“You lose!” She says, grinning.

“What?”

“You lose.” She states, sitting up and facing him fully. “You spoke first.”

“What? _No!_ I did not lose _-_ give me some leeway here -”

She laughs and tuts at him. “Oh, Bobby. Thought you were a stronger man than this.”

“ _Penelope_.” He exclaims, slapping his hands on his thighs like an old geezer. “Are we seriously not going to discuss that your full name is _Penelope_.”

“Nope.” She grins.

“Unbelievable.”

“I don’t think you’re on any grounds to take the piss, Robert.”

“You have never called me Robert.”

“Well, now I am.”

“Robert isn’t even my real name!”

“Your parents legit just called you Bobby?” She sniggers.

“ _Penelope._ ” He raises an eyebrow at her.

“ _Robert._ ” She does the same.

He smiles and she shoots one back. Ah, man. It’s so easy with her.

But, like a dying candle wick it fizzles out just as quickly. He watches as she shys back into herself, that playful side he loves suddenly completely gone. It really isn’t like her at all. And it’s his fault, he knows it is. She stares down into her lap, worrying her lip between her teeth, not sure what to say next.

There really isn’t much to say when you almost kiss someone.

“Poppy -” He starts the same time as she says “Bobby -”

“Oh -”

“Sorry!”

“You talk first.” They accidentally chime together.

Their eyes meet and Poppy fights a smile threatening at the side of her lips.

So badly he wants to say something. 

And as much as it pains him, maybe today isn’t the best day to tell her how he feels. She’s already upset and tired and confused, it’d only be selfish to add the weight of his feelings. Too much pressure for something that is already cooking. Plus, the bags under her eyes begs for some decent rest. It’s the least he can do.

“I’m gonna take off.” He sighs.

“Oh.” She blinks at him and nods. “Okay.”

They haul themselves up from the sofa and walk to the door together.

“Thank you for walking me home.” She murmurs, eyes locked on the floor and then up to his face.

He tries his best to not look at where her cheeks are beginning to blaze with heat. But it fills him up with a wonderful dizziness.

“It’s okay.” He smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe?”

Poppy just nods, offering a weak smile. But, just as he steps outside he’s reminded.

“Wait -” He turns before she closes the door.

“What?” She laughs.

“The film! What happens at the end? Does she seriously go to America? Is he not going to do anything!?”

“So many questions.”

“Important questions!”

“I’m not going to spoil it for you!” She shakes her head, grinning.

Bobby whines. “You’re no fun.”

She blinks at him, her lips screwing up to the side as she thinks. He waits as she goes back into the house and returns with the tape a minute later. 

“You can find out for yourself.” She smiles and hands it over.

“Thanks.” He grins down at the tape and then her.

Gently, he takes her hand in his again, smiling down at her as he brushes her knuckles with his thumb. He gives it a light squeeze, before tugging on her arm and pulling her into a hug. She’s tense at first, arms straight by her sides looking like a plank. Her panicked breaths hit his shoulder. Eventually she eases into it, slowly wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her head up against his shoulder. 

Her laugh is muffled against his shirt when they stand there for a longer time than she had anticipated. It truly is the sweetest sound in the world. He could wrap himself up in it and sleep more soundly than a baby.

“Are your hugs always this long?” She teases, quietly.

He laughs, not expecting her to make a joke. “Ay, not always. But, for you they’re indefinite.” He squeezes his arms around her tighter.

Her exhale tickles against his neck. “I like the sound of indefinite.” She mumbles, a smile in her voice.

Despite every thought running wild in his head, he keeps his mouth shut. _Just enjoy this._ She sinks into the firmness of his arms, appreciative of the simple gesture. Feeling safe and content for the first time in days. And he bathes in her warmth and the smell of freshly scrubbed skin. Her touch makes the room warmer somehow, their future looking a lot less bleak.

For a moment he can feel his heart racing, but it’s in the wrong place, quickly realising it’s not his but Poppy’s. The longer they stay there the more he can only focus on it. The rapid wildness of it is so distracting he can’t even feel his own.

He pulls away, giving her a small wave as he walks out the door and into the night.

It’s completely dark out now, everything around him is bathed in dark navys and blues. The crickets are singing their nighttime lullaby and the moonlight is dancing on the rooftops of buildings. 

Bobby walks down the steps, a hand lightly resting on his chest where he could feel her heartbeat racing. His fingers hot to the touch. He walks home amongst the dark, his smile as bright as the silver moon, certain that her heart beats for him too.

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all thought i was going to write a conversation. PLEASE. literally did the exact opposite. we're all going to sit here and hold hands and suffer together 😌
> 
> i feel a bit conflicted on this chapter, sorry that it's a little slow! but i like the slow stuff.
> 
> if you are not already, come and join myself and other litg ff writers & artists on the r/LITGFanFiction subreddit!! it's dedicated to all things creative, brainstorming and general ff discussion!
> 
> kudos, comments or shouting at me on twitter @l0singface is always highly appreciated!
> 
> also, would just like to say i hope you guys are doing okay and staying safe. wash your hands, wear a mask, use your voice! you can be the change ❤️
> 
> AND THANK U FOR READING!!! (i promise it will pick up lmao)


	19. I Caught A Glimpse, I'm Going After It

**

  
  


Things weren’t back to normal, but they were much better than before.

There were still issues to resolve. Poppy wasn’t just going to roll over and happily wag her tail, like nothing has happened. As easy as that would be, he knows that he’s hurt her. If she’s happy to continue being mates then that’s good enough for him. He’d much rather her be comfortable than nothing at all. Bobby decides to hold off on the whole having a conversation thing, it’d only make Poppy more stressed than she already is.

But, the ground they’re on is so messy, it’s not something that careful stitching is going to fix easily. How do you even continue as normal after almost kissing? With their normal groove being broken for the last week or so, neither of them really know how to get back on track.

Poppy still isn’t surfing in the mornings. Bobby turns up the next day earlier than usual, with no intention of actually joining her but to see if she’s gone back to her normal routine. He spends the entire time wistfully watching over the sea, begging fate to somehow bring her here. But, she doesn’t. Instead, he watches the light glisten off the tops of the waves until the sun is fully in the sky.

As per usual everyone arrives for training around 7am. With still no sign of Stirling. Caroline has never looked so fed up as she rocks up herself.

Poppy smiles as they cross paths for the first time in the day.

“Robert.” She says and gives him a nod.

“Penelope.” Bobby shoots back, smiling too.

She laughs, flipping him off as she continues walking over to the lifeguard tower. It’s not much, but he’ll take it. He doesn’t think he would mind her swearing at him for the rest of his life if it's as cute as that. 

But even still, her smile wasn’t the same as it used to be.

The only thing that seems to be improving around here is the amount of tourists lingering about the beach. Significantly teenagers here on vacation with a craving for some green. Finally, their heist efforts are starting to come into play. Henrik and Rocco seem to have many friends in the game, news spreading around the area faster than Noah eats.

Soon enough, there are eager customers on the hunt for skunk almost every single day. It’s a pretty well-oiled operation. They’d approach Henrik hanging out by the surf shop during their break hours, who’d take the money and point them in the direction of Rocco’s truck parked further up the street. A simple drop off would happen through the window, without a word said. They were making money hand over first. Hope was practically drooling at the sight of their earnings on the first day.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to deal so close to the beach?” Gary asks.

“Everyone goes to the beach. Easy access and it’s popular.” Lottie says, not looking up at him. “It makes sense.”

Lottie has strict rules. Don’t talk about it - don’t even joke about it. And if you do, you’re out of the loop with no cut. She expects everyone to be at the arcade at 9pm sharp at the end of the week to get their share of pocket money before being shooed away again. 

Everyone is scattered around the room, making small talk as Lottie counts notes on the table in the middle of the room. The atmosphere is a little eerie, the gentle chimes of the arcade machines and string of fairy light are the only things on in the room. Bobby is standing to the side, Noah looking bored out of his mind to his left and Chelsea zoned in on the gameboy in her hands to his right. 

He glances over to where Poppy is sitting on the leather sofa on the other side of the room, hood up and idly pulling on the strings. They haven’t said a word to each other and he’s not sure he’ll even get a chance to talk to her tonight. They’ve barely exchanged words all week. When Rocco strides into the building, no apology for his tardiness, he flops down next to her, resting his arm around her shoulders. _Ugh._ Bobby glares so hard without realising, like he’s telepathically trying to tell Rocco he’s a massive bellend.

_Dickhead. Dick-fucking-head._

And, much to Bobby’s surprise, Poppy shrugs Rocco’s arm off before giving him a hard glare.

“Police are always lingering around the beach these days. They’re still looking for that missing guy, remember? Plus, it’s only going to get worse when San Fermín starts.” Gary continues, standing over Lottie sitting at the table.

San Fermín. Bobby remembers Lottie mentioning that before, right before Poppy got those walkie-talkies from Carl.

“Well you better keep your mouth shut then! The guys have got this,” Lottie’s hands freeze on the money. “Despite the stigma against stoners, Henrik and, as much as it pains me to say this - _Rocco_ , are not as dumb as they lead on. Stoners are never dumb when it comes to this stuff.” She sighs.

“What’s San Fermín?” Chelsea asks the room before Bobby can.

“It’s a big festival.” Hope answers. “Normally celebrated in mainland Spain, but the locals put on a little carnival type thing here, too.”

“It’s dope. Music, food, games.” Gary nods, giving Chelsea a smile which she promptly looks away from.

“And alcohol.” Henrik adds.

“So, another excuse to get drunk?” Noah asks.

“You never need an excuse to get drunk.” Gary smiles, shaking his head.

When everyone’s pockets are full, ego’s inflated, future prospects in their eyes, they begin to filter out the building. Bobby shuffles behind the bulk of the group, listening to Noah ramble about what food he wants to purchase first. He looks down at the roll of money in his hand, confused as to how he’s even gotten in this situation. None of this feels real anymore.

“At least we have some proper dosh for your birthday party now.” Chelsea says, suddenly very close to him.

“What?” Bobby’s response is delayed, not realising she is talking to him.

“Your birthday,” She holds up her own roll of money. “We can go all out.”

“Shit. My birthday.” He groans, smacking himself on the forehead. He hasn’t thought about it since everything has blown up. He remembers Priya bringing it up but nothing since then.

“You forgot about your birthday?” Noah laughs.

“No, no.” He shakes his head, watching the others disperse out the door. “I’m just not big on them.”

Bobby’s never been a huge fan of his birthday. It was never at the forefront of his mind when it came to this time of year.

Purely for the fact that he hates having the attention on him. Any kind of spotlight makes him want to rip his skin off. Plus, being born in the summer months is pretty shitty if you want to gather up your school mates. Everyone’s either on holiday or just plain busy. For the last few years they’ve been pretty low key, only ever spent with his closest mates. Specifically, Jonno, Alan and KJ. He’s forever grateful for meeting them.

It’s the type of friendship where you just talked to a random kid on the first day of school and ultimately ended up being inseparable. He remembers being a bleary eyed, fresh faced 11-year old on his first day of secondary school, sitting next to a tower of a human being now known as Jonno, in a science lesson. 

Immediately, Jonno took him under his wing, poking fun at him and telling him to chill out. “It’s only school.” He remembers Jonno saying, as he scratched into a desk with a pen-knife. “School means nothing.” By the end of the day he introduced Bobby to Alan and KJ at the back gates of the school grounds, where they were both throwing rocks at a water tower.

Whenever it rolled around to one of their birthdays, they’d celebrate in their little group. With the limited pocket money they had, they’d race to the local corner shop, stocking up on whatever shitty cupcakes or desserts were on sale. Looking back, he feels bad for the poor sod behind the till that had to count all their pennies they’d smack down on the counter.

He remembers fondly on his 15th birthday, sitting in a playing field and almost pissing himself from laughing. Jonno belted an awful rendition of the Happy Birthday song, waving his lighter in the air as KJ and Alan danced around him. Finally, Jonno lit a single candle on a cupcake, holding it out in front of Bobby to blow out. With their bellies full, they laid back in the grass, drinking in the sunshine that they so rarely got to experience in Scotland. It was so bright that day the saturated blue of the sky made his eyes water.

“What d’jah wish for, Bobby?” KJ asked, breaking the silence.

“Huh?” Bobby frowned.

“Your wish. What did you wish for?” He asked again.

Bobby sat up, looking over to where KJ is looking at him thoughtfully. Jonno and Alan also held his gaze, just as intrigued. He ran his fingers through the grass, making it into a fist and listened to it crunch as it snapped off from the ground. He does it a few more times before answering.

“I didn’t wish for anything.” Bobby said, shrugging.

“What?” Jonno rocketed up from his own lying position, voice booming over the park. “You should always make a wish!”

“I don’t have anything to wish for.” Bobby laughed.

“There’s always something you can wish for.” Alan gave him a punch on the arm.

“Meh,” Bobby shrugged. “Not for me.”

Noah excitedly grabbing his shoulder makes Bobby jump back to the present. He looks even more excited from the idea of his birthday than Bobby does.

“Mate, trust me, you’re going to like this one.” He grins.

Bobby just laughs, nodding along.

As they exit, he catches sight of Poppy sitting by herself on the brickwall, a little bit of distance between her and the few standing in a circle and smoking. She’s chewing on her thumb, eyeing up the cig in Henrik’s fingers. Still as stupidly cute. Still pulls at Bobby’s heart strings. He doesn’t realise he’s stopped dead in his tracks until Lottie gently places a hand on his shoulder. 

“Oh -” He turns, watching her walk to face him. “Hey, Loz.”

“Hey, yourself.”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.” She gives him a strained smile before lowering her voice. “Did you talk to her?” She asks almost silently, nodding in Poppy’s direction.

“Not exactly.” He says, face obviously flushing. “We... uh -”

Lottie takes that as a good sign. “Banged?” Her eyes light up, emerald’s sparkling under the streetlamp glow.

“What!? _No!_ ” He sputters a bit too loud. 

Lottie grits her teeth as she shushes him, tugging on his arm and walking them around to the side of the building. They’re hidden in shadows, the conversation of the others a dull noise in the back of their heads.

“We didn’t do anything like that.” Bobby scowls at her.

“Ugh,” She sighs, folding her arms. “Boring.”

“ _Boring?”_

“Honestly, I’m just waiting for you guys to smash it out.” Lottie looks at her nails absently.

Bobby chokes on air.

“So poetic.” He finally gets out.

“Like you haven’t thought about it.” She raises a questioning eyebrow.

Bobby frowns, ducking his gaze to the floor, making her chuckle.

“We barely even talked. She made me dinner and we watched a film.” He says.

Lottie gags. “God, how pedestrian.”

“It was nice.” He defends, trying for the life of him to not think about the almost-kiss.

“And, yet so unlike her. She doesn’t normally wait this long.”

Those words make his heart flutter. The very possibility of Poppy liking him back is messing him up beyond words. He knows there’s something there. And thanks to him that something could be completely ruined.

“I don’t think making a move is going to solve anything. Either way.” Bobby says.

“What is there to solve though? You guys, what, stopped talking and now you can’t start again?”

Bobby hesitates, looking at the concrete under their shoes, wishing it could swallow him up and spit out someone who was braver. Someone who didn’t make all these mistakes and fuck with, not only one but, _two_ girls’ feelings. _Coward_ , he thinks. _You’re a coward._ With a sigh, he looks back up to Lottie’s face. She’s pulling a frown, obviously waiting.

“Can you keep a secret?” He asks, voice low.

Lottie studies him for a few drawn out seconds. His eyes dart between hers, quickly losing his confidence the longer she stays quiet.

“I haven’t even told Chelsea and Noah.” He adds, indicating this is some serious, _serious_ , shit.

Finally she nods, holding out her pinky finger. He takes it in his own, gripping and shaking their hands firmly. The flutters in his heart turn into a banging drum. Ugh. Here we go. More word vomit.

“I broke up with Priya.” Bobby says simply.

“Oh -” Lottie stalls, cogs starting to turn in her head. “Isn’t that, like, good? In the scheme of things?”

“ _Whilst_ she was giving me a blowjob.” He continues. His embarrassment rockets straight through him, raising goosebumps on his arms.

Lottie stares, dumbfounded. “Well… that’s… odd, but I don’t see how that relates -”

“And Poppy saw us.”

 _Fuck_. It’s even worse when he says it out loud.

“Ah.” Lottie nods, eyes somehow even wider. “So, that’s extremely shit in the scheme of things, then.”

“Mega shit.” Bobby agrees. “The biggest dump of your life, shit.”

“You broke up with Priya in the middle of a blowjob!?” She pins him down with mad eyes, trying to keep her voice quiet. “Are you insane? That girl is going to go off the walls.”

“It was a... minor fuck up.”

“ _Major fuck up._ ”

“Listen - what’s important is Poppy, and -” He’s cut off by the familiar rumbling sound of a vehicle starting up.

Rocco’s truck. 

He turns, watching over his shoulder as one of his worst nightmares plays out. Poppy hops up into the passengers side, slamming the door shut. Even in the dark, he can see she’s looking into her lap, an unsure frown on her face. The headlights switch on, flooding the tarmac with light before it pulls away and disappears down the road.

Lottie sighs before he can.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” She murmurs. 

“I keep telling myself that, but I’m not sure anymore.” Bobby turns to face her, trying to put on a brave face but Lottie sees right through it. Lottie’s not always been the warmest, but the simple touch to his arm says enough.

Bobby genuinely has no right to be jealous or annoyed. In Poppy’s mind he is still together with Priya. Of course she can do whatever she wants.

“Just give it time.” Lottie gives his arm a squeeze. “From the looks of it she’s confused and -” She shrugs. “I don’t know. Knowing her she’ll reach out soon enough.”

Bobby nods, unsure but grateful for the advice nonetheless. Lottie pats him on shoulder before shuffling past him and walking away. 

With tired eyes, Bobby stares at the brick of the building, realising he’s in a familiar spot. He looks up to see the little rectangular window he helped Poppy climb into at the beginning of summer. It’s still slightly agar, scuffs marks on brick just below from when she hauled herself up before clambering in. 

He smiles at the memory, even more so when he thinks about them sitting on the floor, chatting nonsense as the afternoon light painted the dark room in stripes. Even the memory of him throwing up on himself makes him smile just that bit harder. He was in agony - but, she was laughing.

Things seemed a lot simpler then.

Just a boy with a crush with no intention of acting on it.

  
  


**

  
  


The next day is relatively the normal. Hot sun, hot sand, hot everything.

Caroline runs them ragged, all of them teetering at the edge of complete exhaustion. Lungs burst between each desperate stroke. Hand over hand, kick after kick, over and over again until it hurt deep. They look like a pack of dolphins, gliding through the water. When it wasn’t good enough, Caroline would blow her whistle and get them in the sea again. Pure adrenaline is the only thing running through them, their strength and efforts beginning to take its toll.

When they finally reach the end of the day, Caroline sits them down on the sand, listing off different skills and training that still needs to be completed. Bobby sits there, racking his brain trying to think _why god why_ he ever signed up for this, only to remember when he catches Poppy’s sideways glance and smile. 

“You guys completed any of the CPR training?” Caroline asks the group, staring down at the clipboard in her hands.

The chorus of groans and head shakes respond in a resounding no.

“Really?” She looks up for the first time in 5 minutes. “What about basic first aid?”

Another chorus of nos.

“... What did Stirling actually _do?_ ” She asks, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair.

“We pissed about, really.” Gary answers without taking a second to think and shrugs.

He gets a smack on the arm from Marisol as Henrik cups his hands around his mouth and starts booing him. From the back of the group someone throws a flip-flop at Gary’s head. They all burst out laughing and for obvious reasons, Bobby is instantly drawn to Poppy’s cackle from where she’s sitting a few people between them.

Again, their eyes meet, both of them laughing but staring at each other. She looks so happy in those few seconds, it makes him grin stupidly to himself as the group hysterics eventually die. Bobby doesn’t pay attention much after that, staring ahead into nothing, heart beating hard and obvious. Finally Caroline dismisses them, sending the group in all sorts of directions at variants of speeds. 

“What are you smiling at?” Noah asks, poking Bobby on the arm.

Bobby turns to look at him, the smile he didn’t even realise he’s pulling wavering down.

“What?” He gives him a frown.

“You’re all dopey looking.”

Bobby shrugs. “Just - y’know,” His eyes land on Poppy for a second where she’s walking away with Lottie. “Life is alright. It’s good.”

“Mate, never in your _life_ have you said that.”

“Fuck off. Yes I have.”

“Not.”

“I’m just happy, you mug.” He kicks some sand at him. “I dunno. I’m excited.”

“Oh, yeah? For your birthday?” Noah perks up.

Fuck. His birthday.

“Fuck, my birthday.” Bobby groans.

“Again? You forgot again?” Noah cracks up. “It’s tomorrow, dude.”

Chelsea interrupts, excitedly chanting that it’s time for a slushie, grappling onto Noah’s arm and shaking him until he’s swaying side to side. Of course it escalates, until Bobby rips them away from each other before they start wrestling right there on the sand. 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon -” Chelsea jumps up. “Slushie time. Let’s _gooo._ ”

They sit in their usual spot outside the shop, tired legs stretched out on the pavement. Noah has his eyes closed, resting his head against the window. With his own weariness, Bobby squints, watching sun-scorched tourists walk up and down the pier. He begins to grow restless, glancing over every time the bell above the door chimes as someone who isn’t Chelsea walks out. She’s been in there for ages.

He jumps up, walking inside and returns less than a minute later.

“Chelsea’s gone.” Bobby frowns.

Noah’s eyes snap open. “What?” He asks.

Bobby goes to open his mouth, ready to repeat she’s gone, when they’re interrupted.

“ _Psssst!_ ”

They both spin around to find where the noise came from but have no such luck. Bobby can’t see anyone obvious, looking over Noah’s shoulder with a frown. Noah turns back to Bobby, ready to ask a question, but the whisper happens a second time.

“ _PSST!_ ”

Noah whips around again, clearly looking annoyed.

“What? Who is it!?”

Gary suddenly appears beside Bobby, just as quick and pasty white as lightning, making both of them jump.

“Shit!” Bobby crows.

“ _Fuck_ me, where did you come from -” Noah grabs his chest.

“No thanks.” Gary says, taking a seat next to them.

“Where did you come from?” Noah asks again.

“Just, y’know…” Gary shakes his head, waving it off like it’s not important. “Listen. You guys are close with Chelsea right?”

Well, physically right now they’re not. They have no idea where the fuck she has gone and how the hell she snuck out the shop without either of them noticing. Bobby looks at Noah and back to Gary. They both nod, staring at him. Weird. Very weird. Gary never speaks to them, especially without the rest of the group.

“Yeah.” Bobby says slowly. Suspicious. “We are.”

Gary looks over to Noah. “And you guys, uh… you’re not… together are you?”

Noah blinks. Once. Then a series of other times looking completely confused. Yeah, this is all so very weird.

“ _What?_ ” He asks, voice loud. “Me and _Chels!?_ ”

Gary shushes him, frantically waving his hands. “I’ll take that as a no.” He says.

“A very big, very hard, firm _no_.” Noah says. He gags at the idea. “She’s like my sister.”

“Great! Uh -” Gary scratches the back of his head, his neck and cheeks suddenly going pink. “I was wondering if you could… do me a favour?”

Bobby looks to Noah. Back to Gary. Noah again. Gary. Still weird.

“A favour?” Bobby and Noah ask together.

“Yeah, man.” Gary nods. He looks pretty uncomfortable right now. “Right. I’m just going to come out and say it.”

They watch as the big blond inhales deeply, his broad shoulders rising and falling again.

“I… may have a small crush on Chelsea.” Gary mumbles, wringing his hands together in his lap.

“Yeah, no shit.” Noah answers immediately.

“You knew?”

“I thought you liked Hannah?” He asks instead.

“Kind of. But, she likes Lucas too.” Gary shrugs.

“Doesn’t Lucas also like Hope?” Bobby adds.

“I think so. But, she fancies -” Gary cuts himself off. “Whatever. Not important.” He waves his hands around. “Look. I was wondering if you could talk to Chelsea. Maybe gage if she’s into anyone at the moment. That type of thing.”

Silence. Crickets.

“You want us -” Noah points between himself and Bobby. “To hook you up with Chelsea?”

Gary nods.

“You’re crazy.” Noah shakes his head. “You know she’s, like, a loon, right? And she basically ignores you?”

“Trust me. I’m aware.” Gary sighs, resting his chin on his fist. He looks wistfully out in the distance for a second and laughing to himself. “She thinks I’m an idiot jock blockhead.”

“You _are_ an idiot jock blockhead.” Bobby deadpans.

And to his surprise, Gary laughs even harder. His first impression of Gary wasn’t the greatest. But, he figures his own impression wasn’t either. He remembers being a little stuttering mess, faking he knew Poppy just to look like he wasn’t a weirdo staring at her. And, for complete sane reasons, Gary felt the need to square up a little.

“I am.” Gary nods. “But, that’s not all I am, y’know? And I can’t help who I fancy.”

Bobby finds himself nodding in agreement.

“Look. Basically,” He turns to Bobby. “Lucas is figuring out his Hope and Hannah shit. I know Loz is bringing this Kassam guy to your party. I really want a chance tomorrow to talk to Chelsea properly without getting completely shot down.”

“You’re telling me that people are using my birthday party as an excuse for... hooking up?” Bobby starts grimacing, despite the amusement in his tone.

“...Yeah. Kind of. It’s just what happens. Summer fling shit.” Gary nods.

“Huh.” Noah mumbles. “Kind of makes sense.”

“Does it?” Bobby questions.

“Parties are a hook-up paradise.” Gary adds. 

Bobby snaps his mouth shut real fast. There’s no way he can argue with that. The beginnings of his relationship with Priya rest on a party hook-up. What a mess.

“Actually -” Gary sits up, rocked with a new idea. “Maybe you could talk to the others.”

“The others?”

“Yeah!” Gary grins. “Like, maybe instead of talking to Chelsea you could talk to Lucas or Hannah or Hope, to see what they’re doing for the party? I have a feeling Hannah is going to make a move.”

“You wanna talk to Chelsea because you don’t want to get sucked into the Hannah-Lucas-Hope love triangle?” Noah frowns.

“Okay - my phrasing wasn’t very good, but -”

“Goodness, your life sounds terrible, Gaz.” Bobby smiles, shaking his head.

“Being this beautiful comes with a price.” He grins back.

“This sounds like an awful lot of work to try and speak to someone.” Noah narrows his eyes, glaring at Gary.

Gary sighs. “I know. It’s crazy. And it sounds like it’s coming out of nowhere, but I just - I really just want one moment to really talk to her.”

Noah doesn’t look convinced at all, letting all of them squirm in this new silence that’s fallen. It’s so awkward. 

“Where can we find Hannah?” Bobby sighs.

“ _Dude_ -” Noah straightens up. “You’re not seriously suggesting we help him?” He continues, like Gary isn’t even sitting there.

“What? You never know. Chelsea might dig him.” Bobby says.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Why? You jealous?” Bobby raises an eyebrow, smiling at him.

Noah crosses his arms, going full-on stink face. God, Bobby can see it in his eyes how hard he’s praying for Chelsea to somehow pop out of nowhere. It would send Gary running like a cockroach exposed to the light. Gary tries to cover his smile with his fist.

“No. I am not jealous.” He grumbles, turning his head to stare at the ocean instead.

“We can try and talk to her.” Bobby starts, holding his hands up as Gary prepares to rocket up in celebration. “ _But_ \- just don’t get your hopes up.”

“Oh, mate.” Gary grins looks a fool. “Thank you! That’s all I want.”

Bobby grins at him before turning to Noah and gently punching him on the arm. Noah screws his face up even more, forcing himself to look out at the sea. Spoiled sport. Bobby punches him harder, making him yelp. With angry eyes, he punches Bobby back. Bobby stares back hard, blinking and nodding over at Gary. Noah shakes his head. Bobby punches him even harder.

“Ow!” Noah groans. “Jesus, _fine_ , okay, shit. Fine.” He turns to Gary. “I’ll talk too. We’ll talk to her.”

“Thank you, mate -”

“Don’t thank me, we haven’t done it yet.” Noah interrupts.

“Right. Yes. Of course.” Gary stutters.

“But if it _does_ happen to work - and she _somehow_ finds an interest in you - just know that, even though I’m barely a threat to you, I will put you 2 foot under if you do anything to make her uncomfortable. I am too weak to dig you a 6 foot grave.”

The laugh that comes out of Gary is thunderous.

“Alright, man. I respect that.” He grins at him and gives Noah a slap on the back, a bit too hard. Noah tries for the life of him to not wince out loud.

“Right.” Bobby smiles. “Seriously. Where can we find Hannah?”

  
  


**

  
  


“I’ve always loved this café. Has a certain romantic essence about it, y’know?”

“Yeah. It’s a nice tucked away spot.”

“The white tulips in the window beds remind me of Cinderella's dress.”

“Maybe if you sit here long enough your Prince Charming will swing by.” Noah jokes.

“A girl can only dream.” Hannah places her book on the table with a sly smile. “I didn’t know other people knew about this spot.” She says, looking them up and down.

“We may have had a hint.” Bobby says.

Bobby and Noah tentatively take a seat at Hannah’s table. She looks so adult with her single cup of coffee and book sitting in front of her. She is right, it is a nice place. It’s quite small, tucked away in an alley in a predominately local area. 

The brick is the colour of ripe oranges, with french doors wide open for extra chairs and tables to spill out onto the street. The harsh screech of milk being frothed pours out the open doors along with the gentle aroma of freshly baked spanish pastries and goods.

“On the topic of Prince Charming,” Bobby pauses, trying to think of the best way to phrase this. “How are you and Lucas doing?”

At first she looks confused. What a strange question to open up with. Especially considering that they never ever talk without the group. Bobby is making leaps and bounds today. Instead of the sweet trademark Hannah smile he is expecting, she folds her arms in her lap and rolls her eyes. That seems to stop the mood dead. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Hannah frown the whole time he’s known her.

“Ugh,” Her shoulders slump into a sad curve. “Complicated. Romantic. But... complicated.”

“So. Not great then.” Noah says.

Hannah laughs, shaking her head at him.

“Why do you ask?” She looks between them.

“Lucas wants to ask you out. For my birthday party. Like, a date.” The white lie comes way too quickly for Bobby to realise.

“Oh?” Her eyes light up. “That’s interesting.”

“Really?” Noah frowns.

“Yeah… we’ve been through some… stuff.”

“Stuff?” He probes again.

“Yeah. Stuff. Lucas is very, uh, intense. And he has a certain way of doing things. Even at our age he seems to know what he wants - which I respect immensely, but - yeah. Very intense.”

“Right.” Bobby and Noah say in unison.

“He -” Hannah frowns. “He… ugh, okay.” She sits up straighter in her seat, scooching closer. “Y’know on prank night? When we didn’t come? We had this whole date night planned. It was really sweet. He did the whole candle lit dinner. Flowers. Wine. Beyond a girl’s dreams, it was insanely great. Then he planned for us to go for a walk along the beach during sunset and then into town for salsa dancing -”

“Jesus.” Noah sighs, wide eyed. He looks exhausted from just listening. “He really wasn’t messing around, huh?”

“Oh, it was full on. He’s even planned for us to drive up to Deià and hike up the mountains at some point. Supposed to be super romantic. Apparently, it feels like you’re at the tip of the world, like nothing else is there to interrupt you...” Hannah’s train of thought fades, dreamily staring off into the distance.

“Hannah -” Bobby interjects and waves a hand in front of her face. “Hannah.”

“Oh! Right.” She giggles, placing a hand on her chest. “Anyways - the whole date thing - I felt a little overwhelmed because no one’s ever done that for me before. I’m all for romantic gestures but this was all… too much. I told him I just wanted to stay in and enjoy the moment we were having already, no need to push things - y’know? But, he insisted that the night had to continue like he had planned. For whatever reason I couldn’t get my point across to him. We got into a _small_ tiff about it. Luckily in the middle he had to go answer the phone. So, I upped and left. And, now he’s been pouting about it and draping himself all over Hope ever since.” Hannah sighs, also sounding exhausted. 

The boys exchange glances. Lucas really sounds like he is doing the most.

“I know I shouldn't have just suddenly left, without saying anything. But, it was so overwhelming the only choice I felt like I had was to bolt.” Hannah shakes her head.

“You shouldn’t feel bad.” Noah frowns. “Not for removing yourself from a situation where you’re not comfortable.”

“Right?” She turns to him, looking relieved. “I don’t know what else to say to him other than I don’t need him to make all these huge gestures all the time. Like,” She holds up her book. _Little Women._ “Why do guys feel the need to make big gestures to eventually win over a woman? If the woman actually likes you she’ll be there when she’s ready. She’s not something for you to scoop up. Let her come to her own terms before you bombard her with your own shit.”

Noah nods as Bobby stares at her wide eyed, looking like an owl.

“Listen.” Hannah grips the book with both hands. “If Laurie had let Jo figure out her own feelings before he sprang a proposal on her, they probably would have ended up together!” She’s shaking the book now. “Jo married that professor because he was actually respectful of her space and let her be her own person! Laurie was persistent with his feelings, when Jo was confused!”

“Laurie’s a dude’s name?” Bobby asks.

“ _Ugh,_ ” Hannah dumps the book back on the table. “Nevermind.”

“I get it.” Noah nods, pursing his lips in thought.

“You do?” Hannah asks as Bobby sputters a “What?”

Noah shrugs. “Just one of those things.” Well. There’s a story for later. “So. Basically, if she likes you she’ll make the effort, too. Don’t try and force it.”

“Exactly.” Hannah agrees, giving Noah a smile. “I don’t blame Lucas for any of the things he did. They were incredibly generous and you can’t blame him from coming from money.” She shrugs. “It’s not his fault. People have different ideas and visions of romance. I think it’s one of those things in life where you just have to find the person who shares your vision too, y’know? No matter how simple the gesture is. I dunno. Like sharing ice cream or something.”

“That’s sweet.” Noah says.

“So.” Bobby scratches the back of his head. “I’m guessing you’re not really gunning for Lucas right now then?”

Hannah laughs, bright and high pitched.

“You’re very good at reading in between the lines.”

Bobby leaves Noah with Hannah at the café. Being the third wheel is one thing, but being the third wheel whilst they discuss the development of feminism in literature in the late 20th century is another. Bobby had no idea Noah had so many opinions on books. He didn't even know Noah was able to _read_ books. 

He walks back to the beach, now craving a slushie for himself and in no rush to go home yet. Damn it, he should’ve just gone in the shop with Chelsea when she asked in the first place. His feet are sore, his legs ache and he’s pretty sure he’s swallowed more salt water today than any human does in a lifetime. 

Not even halfway through the slushie he’s bursting for a piss. So he dashes to the toilets, tentatively leaving his cup by the sinks that he’s pretty sure have never been cleaned the entire time he’s been here. The cubicle door locking in place sounds so loud in the empty room.

Just as he’s about to zip up, he hears two people enter the bathroom. Their voices echo and ambush the room with unnecessary volume along with the door angrily slamming against the tiles.

“I don’t know, bro.” Bobby recognises that as Rocco. “Something’s off.”

“What do you mean?” Henrik’s voice replies.

“She’s just -” Rocco sighs. “She’s been skittish lately.”

“Really? Poppy?” 

Bobby freezes just hearing her name. It feels almost intrusive just to be hearing about other people talking about her. He steps further back into the cubicle, not sure whether to leave or listen. He doesn’t think they’ve realised one of the cubicles is closed, continuing the conversation like they’re alone.

“Yeah, man.” Rocco murmurs. Bobby listens as one of them shuffles over to the urinal and starts using it. “She’s being super frigid these days. Fucking weird.”

Bobby frowns. He doesn’t like that word. No. He hates that word.

“What?” Henrik’s laugh fills the room. “Nah, can’t be Poppy.”

“I’m telling you dude! She called me over to her place like almost two weeks ago and started freaking out instead. We did nothing. Zilch. _Nada._ ”

Almost two weeks ago. When he saw Rocco’s truck driving down her road. Fuck - so she _didn’t_ hook up with him like he first assumed.

“Then the same after I drove her home the other night.” He continues. “Maybe she’s got the painters in.” Rocco muses to himself.

“ _Dude._ ” Henrik scowls. Bobby hears him hit Rocco on the arm. Thank god for Henrik. “Don’t say that. Also - do you have any idea how long a period actually lasts?”

He hears the urinal get flushed. What Bobby doesn’t hear is Rocco’s eyeroll.

“Whatever. Normally, she’s gagging for it, but now...”

Okay. Nope, _nope._ Bobby’s had enough. He can feel how annoyed he is from the heat emitting from his face. He scrambles to pull his fly up before forcefully unlocking the cubicle door and letting it swing open. Henrik physically jumps, water splashing over him as he washes his hands and Rocco’s head snaps to his direction.

“Oh.” Rocco gives him an up-nod. “Hey, man. Didn’t realise anyone else was in here.”

“Bobby!” Henrik grins over as him, shaking the excess water off his hands.

Bobby doesn’t even process they’ve said hi to him, still a little heated from what he’s just overheard.

“You shouldn’t talk about her like that.” Bobby says. He can feel himself staring to grind his molars together.

“Huh?” Rocco screws his face up, confused.

“You shouldn’t talk about people behind their backs.” He says, feeling himself start to get angry. “Least of all call her frigid.”

“Alright. Well… it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s _rude._ ”

“Jeez, man - alright, chill.” He holds his hands up defensively and shrugs. “No need to be a dick.”

Bobby simply rolls his eyes before shuffling past them both. He feels only slightly guilty as he catches Henriks sad frown in the mirror. He tries his best not to storm out of the bathroom, mumbling to himself how much of a dick Rocco is. He’s looking over his shoulder as he watches the door close when he bumps into someone.

“Oh, fuck -”

“Shit -”

“Sorry -”

He looks up to see - oh, God. 

“Poppy!” He says, way too loud. She gives him a suspicious look, tilting her head before she laughs and grins.

“Hey.” She nods at him. “Alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He nods back, more frantic than needed. “Fine. Uh -”

She stares as he pauses, mouth hanging open and trying to place his next word. He notices her hair is wet. Probably from surfing.

“What are you doing out here?” He asks.

“Oh, just,” She gestures to the guys toilets behind him.“Waiting for Rocco. Said he’ll gimme a lift home.”

Ah, right. Bobby nods, understanding. Jesus, it kills him. He’s trying not to let his jealousy flare up and show on his face. But, all he can think about is that _prick_ driving her home in his prick-truck, using his prick-charm to probably try and coax her into some prick-sex. _Prick._ He quickly looks behind him, looking at the door to the toilets, knowing Rocco is going to come out at any second.

“Come get ice cream with me.” Bobby blurts as he looks back at her.

Poppy smirks at him, amused.

“Ice cream?” She asks, beginning to laugh.

“Yes. Ice cream.” He rolls his eyes. Teasingly, of course. “It’s cold and delicious. I want some and I think you should come with me.”

Unsure, she glances at the toilets before looking back to his face.

“I’m afraid this is a one time, special offer.” Bobby frowns, making her laugh. “Take it or leave it.”

Poppy laughs again, her face lighting up more than ever. His heart beat is in his ears and his palms are sweating. Suddenly, there’s that peak of light she’s always shined on him, that has been missing for so long. It’s just a spark, some sunshine yet to be born, but it’s there and he can sense it. It feels like hope, the anticipation of good things to come. It’s something he hasn’t felt in so long it’s almost foreign. But, it’s entirely welcome.

“What makes this a special offer?” She grins.

“It’s with me. Duh.”

“And you’re special, are you?”

“Are you insinuating that I am not?” He gasps, placing a hand on his chest.

“You’re insufferable.”

“No, I’m _special._ ”

Ah, back to their old banterous ways. She’s laughing and grinning at him like he’s an idiot and Bobby is loving every second. Though, the dread of Rocco popping up any second is sending his heart racing.

“Sure. Let’s do it.” She grins again. “Why not.”

The walk into town feels so effortless now, having done it what feels like a thousand times now. Small talk rifts effortlessly between them, the easiest it’s been in a long time. She asks about his day, trying to hold in her laughs as he complains about how sore his legs are. They end up in a gelato shop not too far from Marisol’s father’s restaurant. With their respective ice creams, they pitch up outside and sit on the pavement.

Bobby looks down at the pot in his hand, triple chocolate chip ice cream rapidly melting in the late afternoon sun, then glances over at Poppy’s. Cherry Garcia. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Bobby turns to look at her.

“No.” She says, stuffing her spoon into her mouth. He doesn’t panic though, as she turns to face him too, giggling. “Yeah, of course you can.”

“You can totally not answer it if you don’t want to -”

“God,” She rolls her eyes, laughing. “Ask me the question, dumby.”

Bobby takes a breath. “Why do you like cherry so much?” He queries, looking down to the ice cream in her hands and back to her face.

Poppy raises her eyebrows, looking thoughtful for a second. He can tell she wasn’t expecting him to ask anything like that from how long they share a silence.

“What makes you think I like cherry so much?”

Bobby looks down at the ice cream in her hand and then raises an eyebrow at her. _Please._ His memories slingshot to the forefront. The cherry lollipop. Her cherry chapstick. Now the ice cream. Jesus, even that thing with her chin. He grabs his own as if to remind her, making her smile.

“No one’s ever asked me that before.”

He shrugs, trying to act nonchalant. “Just interested.”

“Promise you won't make fun of me for it?” She asks back.

“What? No - no, of course not.”

She sets her pot of ice cream by her leg, bringing her hands up to rake through the curls sitting over her shoulder. They both wait, looking out over the streets as Poppy racks her brain.

“My dad _loved_ cherry.” She starts, her lips tugging up into a smile as soon as she starts talking. “We lived on the outskirts of Bristol before my mum moved us here. There was this little bakery on our high-street, where you could get these cherry jam and almond galettes. Proper lush. He would get them early in the morning before taking me to school -”

She bites her lip to cut herself off, looking over his shoulder. Bobby waits, staring at her eyes starting to glaze over. 

“He’d send me off to school with one. Then give one to my mum before she left for work and then take one for himself. It was the best part of the day for about four or so years. Long story short, my mum found out he was having an affair with the woman who ran the bakery. Fucking awful. Lots of shouting. Obviously, they split. And then he ran off with this bakery bird.”

“I’m so sorry.” Bobby sighs. “That’s shit.”

“So shit.” She nods, laughing to herself. “But, for a year afterwards he’d leave a box of those cherry galettes on our doorstep early in the morning. I sometimes had to sneak down before my mum saw them because she’d just chuck them - or literally stomp on them.” She shrugs. “Can’t blame the woman.”

Bobby nods, understanding.

“And, when he finally stopped leaving them, it hit my mum hard. Like, ridiculously. She started freaking out, like their split had finally hit her. The last piece of him was gone and she didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t understand at the time, but, I get it now, I guess. So -- we left. And ended up here - which is where they met.”

“Your parents met in Magaluf?” Bobby laughs.

“Weird, right?” She grins. “Both of them on holiday with their family.”

_Both of them summerbirds._

“That’s …freaky. Do you know where your dad is now?”

“Pfft, fuck no.” Her laugh is strained, trying to make light of it. 

“I’m sorry.” Bobby says quietly.

They stall there for a second before Bobby reaches for her hand resting in her lap and links their fingers together. He gives her a reassuring squeeze. She tries to smile back at him but she can’t fake the misery in her eyes.

“I know I should hate him.” She shakes her head, looking down at the ground. “He’s a piece of shit for cheating - but,” Her voice is so quiet now. “I miss him. And I hate that I miss him.”

Bobby takes a breath. “It’s okay to miss him. He’s your dad.”

“Yeah.” Her sigh is heavy and defeated, blanketing their conversation in another silence.

They take a moment to watch the empty street in front of them. The cotton candy pink from the sky is reflecting off the windows of the buildings around them, illuminating the air in a rosy hue. Bobby’s the most comfortable he’s been in weeks, even after listening to her story. Shaking her head, she laughs to herself. 

“So stupid. Sorry,” She murmurs, failing to hold in a giggle and blinking away the wet in her eyes. “That was a really long winded way to tell you why I like cherries. It's more of a comfort thing than anything else.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s nice to know.” Bobby laughs too.

"You're here with your parents right?" She asks, trying to steer conversation.

"Uh. My mum and my step-dad."

"Ah." She nods and innocently asks "Where's your dad?"

 _Joke?_ His brain asks. _Yeah, joke._

"Oh. He's scattered on a beach in Scotland."

One, two and three seconds go by before it clicks for her. Poppy's eyes go comically wide, she snatches her hands away from him to cover her face. Her panic makes Bobby start howling with laughter and clap his hands together.

"Oh my god, oh my _god_ \- I'm so sorry -" She rushes out, flustered.

"It's fine!" He laughs. "It's fine, honestly."

"That was such a personal thing to ask, I'm sorry -"

"Poppy, it's fine." He can't stop laughing, wiping at the tears that form.

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s _fine!_ ”

"You're such a dick." She lets out a small laugh.

“I know.” He can't stop laughing.

Everything is silent except for Bobby’s manic giggling. Poppy keeps shaking her head, her burning face pressed into her hands. Finally, she pulls her face away from her hands, looking over at him with a mix of dread and pleansentry. She sits up and punches him on the arm.

“Fucking dick.” She laughs.

“I know.” He repeats quietly, nodding.

Again they sit in a content silence, as if the world were encased in their own little bubble with no way to escape. The air is so still that if a feather were to fall it wouldn’t drift one way or the other. Not even the normal summer evening breeze passes by. Even the clouds were stationery. Still. Utterly still.

“Thank you for the ice cream date.” She smiles over at him.

“Date?” He inhales air, making him choke.

“Yeah. Date.” She laughs.

“Oh… uh, you’re welcome.”

Bobby stares at the ends of her hair, where her curls are starting to kink up after drying from the sun. Poppy tilts her head, catching his gaze and smiling at him.

“Genuinely.” She places her hand on top of his and squeezes. “Thank you. You’re a good egg. Inside and out.”

Poppy leans over, kissing him sweetly on the cheek before standing up.

“I’ll see you at your party, yeah?” She asks.

“Uh - yes.” He nods, affirmatively. “Yes. Yes you will.”

Their goodbye is short and sweet. Poppy gives him a small wave over her shoulder as she walks away. As soon as she’s out of sight, he touches his cheek, feeling way more giddier than he should as his fingers catch some sticky residue of Cherry Glacia ice cream in the shape of her lips. He rushes up to his feet, oblivious to the rest of his own ice cream melting on the pavement.

He runs - _sprints_ \- home, lungs on fire by the time he’s shoving himself through his front door.

“Mum!” He calls out, wheezing. “ _Mum!_ ”

“What? Yes, what?” She appears in the archway to the lounge, looking panicked.

He’s a mess of scrambling and sweating limbs as he tries to get his bag off his back and take his sneakers off at the same time. Everything falls to the floor in a dramatic fashion. Beth looks so confused, frozen in place.

“Do you know anything about Cherry galettes?” He asks.

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hannah: pops off about little women  
> me: i love this song
> 
> heeey guys, hope you're all doing amazing! i am currently dying in the current uk heatwave ✌🏽 sorry this chapter came so delayed, my head hasn't been in the right space but i think i'm getting there again! 
> 
> ALSO, shout-out to my fellow cluts on tour - y'all really made my week w/ all the hilarious chaos and kept me fed 😌 love u all!! 💞 and thank you to suchi and cursula for being sooo wonderful and making me not completely lose my mind, you're some real ones ❤️
> 
> if you are not already, come and join myself and other litg ff writers & artists on the r/LITGFanFiction subreddit!! it's dedicated to all things creative, brainstorming and general ff discussion!
> 
> kudos, comments, shouting at me on twitter @l0singface or tumblr @losingface is always highly appreciated!
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING!!! hope you're all ready for bobby's b-day bash next chapter 🥳


	20. Bad Behaviour

**

  
  


“Mum -”

“Oh, I just cannae believe it!”

“ _Mum!_ ”

“You’re seventeen,” Beth tightens her arms around him, cutting off even more air. “My baby is seventeen.”

“Ma, I can’t breathe.” Bobby laughs, trying to squeeze out of her impossible mother strength grip. “My lungs!”

Emily laughs, standing at the side of the bed where Beth is perched. It’s mid-morning, the sun is high in the sky and filtering through the blinds into Bobby’s room. He’s still got sleep in his eyes, unable to rub it out before his mum tackled him with a hug to wake him up. She pulls away, still holding onto his arms right and smiles at him with misty eyes. Emily sits on the bed too, wrapping her arms around Bobby for a hug too. 

“You’re so old.” She taunts.

“I know.” Bobby sighs, trying his best to look at her.

Beth, sweeps his locs off of his forehead. “You want pancakes?” She asks.

“Yes!” Bobby bolts up, shaking them off of him. “One hundred percent yes!”

Bobby and Emily barrel down the stairs together, like kids on Christmas morning from the very mention of pancakes. Beth trails behind shouting “Slow down!” until they make it into the kitchen.

“Oh, honey -” Beth turns to look at Bobby as she reaches into a cupboard. “I found a recipe for those cherry… galats?”

“Cherry galettes.” He corrects.

“Yes!” She chimes, setting down a bag of flour onto the counter. “Stephen and Colette down the road had a bunch of baking books, thank goodness.” She points over to a stack on a sideboard. “The top one has a galette recipe bookmarked. I figured we could figure out the cherry stuff ourselves. Shouldn’t be that hard, right?”

Bobby beams, stalking over to the pile of books. They’re old and worn, with tattered edges. Clearly, they’ve been used time and time again. He starts flipping through the book, eyes scanning through the pastry chapter before landing on the galettes. Carefully, he runs his fingers over the page, like he’s found gold. His skin prickles, instantly feeling warm as he thinks about Poppy’s bright smile.

“Why are you into baking suddenly?” Emilly slides up next to him, peering over his arm to get a look at the page.

Bobby looks down at the book, feeling his face begin to blaze. He’s not sure how to answer. Will she make fun of him if he answers it’s because of a girl? Maybe. Probably.

“Just,” He shrugs. “Felt like doing something new.”

Emily eyes him suspiciously. “Hm. Interesting hobby to pick up during the summer.”

“Oh, leave him be.” Beth interrupts, pulling a carton of milk out the fridge. “Put the book down and come help me.” She beckons them both over.

They fall into their familiar routine. The radio is on, music wafting around alongside the sweet smell of pancakes being fried on the stove. They don’t do this often, but when they did they did it _right._ Bobby has always been on batter duty, whilst Beth cooks and Emily chops fruit and preps the table with other toppings like syrup, sugar and whipped cream. It always felt effortless. 

By the time Beth sets the fat stack of pancakes on the table, Terry emerges, yawning and stretching from just waking up. Bobby catches sight of him entering the kitchen, his mood immediately taking a rocky tumble. 

“Mornin’ Terry.” Emily smiles, taking a seat at the table.

“Morning.” He nods and then looks over to Bobby. “Happy birthday, Bobs.”

“Oh,” Bobby pauses not expecting him to remember. “Thanks.”

Terry offers a small smile before he brings forward the hand behind his back, holding a neatly wrapped gift. Bobby takes it from him, smiling as he tears into it. It grows wider to see that they’re floral shirts, similar to the one he stole from Terry that one time.

“Wow, uh -” This might be the first time Terry has actually made him genuinely smile. “Thank you, Terry.”

Terry smiles back, giving him a pat on the back.

Maybe birthday’s aren’t so bad after all.

The majority of the day is quite quiet.

He stays at home, enjoying some family time that he hasn’t experienced the whole summer. They sit out in the back garden, chatting absently and soaking up the sun. Beth lies in a lounger, with huge sunglasses and her sunhat, getting increasingly tipsy throughout the day from homemade cocktails. Emily lies in the grass, laughing at the nonsense coming out of their increasingly drunk mother’s mouth.

Bobby and Terry reach for a beer in the cooler at the same time, accidentally knocking hands. Terry raises an eyebrow before a booming laugh escapes him as he says “Of course you can have a beer, it’s your birthday.” The sky begins to turn orange, much like the flames whipping back and forth on the candles of his birthday cake that Beth brings out after dinner.

“Remember to make a wish!” Beth grins, waiting eagerly.

Bobby smiles, letting the bright light of the candles blur his vision. He thinks about the year just gone and now the year ahead, reflecting on what could and can be. He wants to be bolder. To have the confidence of others. Bravery. He can’t stand this coward in him any more. With a deep breath he blows out his candles.

After it turns dark, Bobby bounds through the house to get ready for the real party ahead. He stares at himself in the mirror, hair still wet from his shower, undoing and redoing the top button of one of his new floral shirts. He’s confident enough to not go out searching for Emily’s advice any more, deciding to leave it undone. He takes a deep breath, basking in the tranquility of his room before the doorbell interrupts him.

He grabs his bag and runs down the stairs, picking up the pace when he hears his mother open the door only to be immediately greeted by Noah’s voice.

“Mrs. Mckenzie!” Noah beams, bowing theatrically in the doorway. “To what do I owe the pleasure? You are looking wonderful this evening -”

“No, no, stop - stop -” Bobby interrupts him, waving his hands about madly. “Stop it right now.”

“I’m just saying hi to your mum -”

“Yeah, let the boy finish, Bobby.” Beth is cracking up, still a little tipsy.

God, if there is anything in the world right now he doesn’t need it’s his mum and Noah becoming buddies.

“Can’t.” Bobby says, pushing Noah out the door. “Gonna be late!” He keeps shoving him, grinning back at his mum. “Love you!” He says as Beth grabs at his face and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Will be back tomorrow!” He gets out, pulling the door closed behind him.

Bobby drags Noah down the path to the street, not looking back at the house. He’s a mix of nerves and wonderful excitement. He doesn’t even care about his birthday anymore, knowing he gets to see a particular someone tonight.

“Dude,” Noah laughs. “Your mum’s kinda hot -”

“Oh, fucking hell.” Bobby gags. “Please, shut up.”

The party seems to be in full swing by the time they make it to Chelsea’s house, thumping music and laughter so loud it can be heard from down the street.

Noah’s jaw drops, practically swinging, as they approach the front gates of her home. If you can even call it that. Chelsea’s house is a fuck off, big, I’ve-got-so-much-money-I-could-wipe-with-it mansion. 

Lights line the outside of the house, illuminating everything up from underneath and showing it off like some grand trophy. Ivy and fern grow up against the colossal stone structure, splashes of green against a untouched white. It looms proudly amongst the other houses in the area, clearly the top dog here. Pink and yellow carnations are planted all over the pristine front lawn, so bright they look like candy. It even has one of those big ironwood doors. It’s even got a _fountain_.

“She’s got a fucking fountain.” Noah points as they make their way to the door.

It’s even grander inside, looking like it takes a small army to handle the upkeep of the place. Everywhere Bobby looks there’s a huge archway leading into another enchantingly big room. But, the real kicker is at the back of the house. 

They spot Chelsea chatting away with Hope and Lucas, in the middle of a huge kitchen, surrounded by a bunch of party goers that Bobby doesn’t recognise. The multitude of patio doors are wide open, leading down out to a decking and further down a large swimming pool. Beyond that extends a garden full of even more people. 

“Chels!” Noah throws his arms up before bounding over to her and wrapping her up in a tight hug. She starts laughing and screaming as he picks her up from the floor, legs kicking in the air as she laughs “Get off me, loser!”

“This is fucking insane.” Noah says, setting her back down. Her points to the garden again. “Is that a fucking DJ!?”

“Yeah,” She nods, looking just as amazed and confused. “Lottie came early to help set up and brought him. I think his name is Kassam? And then all these people turned up too.” She waves her hands around. “He must’ve told people he was here. I don’t think they even know it’s a birthday party!”

“Chels, your house is…” Bobby trails off, looking around them. He doesn’t even care if people aren’t here for his birthday. The less attention the better. “Why didn’t you tell us you were crazy rich?”

“Didn’t think it was important.” She huffs, fixing her hair and taking a swing for Noah, who ducks out the way. 

“Chelsea, having a pool is very important,” Noah points to the back garden. “Pools are very important to me.”

“Are your parents chill with this?” Bobby asks, amazed.

She shrugs and goes to open her mouth but instead makes a panicked squeak sound, staring over their shoulders. Confused, Bobby and Noah turn, catching sight of Gary and a few others making their way through to the kitchen. When they turn back Chelsea is long gone and lost in the crowd.

Gary pumps his arms up into the air as he spots Bobby, whooping and hollering. “Birthday boy!” He shouts, stalking straight towards him. 

Bobby throws his hand up for a high-five but Gary gives him a bone crushing hug instead. Noah laughs, watching Bobby’s eyes bug out of his head.

“Happy birthday, bro!” Gary keeps yelling, shaking Bobby in the hug.

“Thanks, man,” Bobby half laughs half wheezes, patting him on the back. “Are you okay?”

“This party is insane,” The big blond continues. “I’m so happy I could cry.”

“You’re… welcome?”

“Let’s get you a drink!”

Gary pulls back, giving him a hard slap on the back before pulling him and Noah over to the keg on the other side of the room. They’re wrapped up in conversation with him for the best part of an hour. It’s surprisingly easy, considering they don’t have much in common with the dude, but Gary is in his element, focused and ready to have fun. He’s spewing out jokes and Bobby is cracking up like he would do with life long friends.

It’s completely dark out now, dotted lights around the garden looking like stars against the mass of the crowd. The group have come and gone, giving Bobby hugs and shoving drinks into his hands as they say hello. It fills him with a warm dizziness, finally feeling like he belongs somewhere.

He hears some raised voices by the door, his eyes landing on Lottie hugging some new people who’ve just arrived. The blonde steps to the side as she moves away, revealing the newcomers to Bobby’s wandering eyes. Fuck. His heart jumps up into his throat, eyes landing on Poppy looking maybe (definitely) the hottest he’s ever seen her. Has seen _any_ human.

“Fuck… me.” Bobby unknowingly whispers to himself, red solo cup in his hand getting slightly crushed.

Leather mini skirts are a threat amongst themselves. Bobby really didn’t know he had a thing for them until, like, this very second. The way it’s hugging her hips so snug makes him want to walk straight over, grab her and dip her into a kiss, old-school Hollywood style. Maybe he did take something away from that film she showed him. God forbid when she turns around and he sees her bum. 

But, he is certain it’s the combination of black fishnets tights and chunky black boots with her dark cherry painted lips is on track to kill him dead. For a second he dreams how many kisses it would take to get all her lipstick off. Even the faded Terminator shirt she’s tucked into her skirt is hot. Bobby is pretty sure steam is coming out of his ears.

“What d’you say?” Noah laughs, turning to him.

“Huh?” Bobby barely hears him over the rush in his ears. 

And he still hasn’t torn his eyes away from Poppy, who’s reaching up on her tip-toes to give Ibrahim a hug in the doorway. Noah doesn’t even reply, following his eye line before swiftly elbowing him in the ribs. Hard.

“ _Ow!_ ” Bobby groans. 

The cup in his hand gets crushed completely in his fist as he tenses, beer spilling all over his hand and the floor. Thank god no one else seems to notice, it flies under the radar as Gary continues to talk loudly, followed by the loud laughs of the strangers around them.

“Dude. Could you be more obvious?” Noah whispers in his ear.

Bobby scowls at him, shuffling away from the group. He chucks the cup in the bin and begins to wash his hands at the sink on the other side of the room. Mumbled swears are tumbling out of his mouth when someone slides up behind him, as stealthy and quiet as a cat. He flinches, straightening up immediately when a pair of hands cover his eyes. A familiar wall of heat is suddenly very close to his back, telling him who it is before they even open their mouth.

“Hey, birthday boy.” Poppy chimes. 

Bobby can hear the smile in her voice, making him grin to himself too. 

“Satan?” He asks.

She starts laughing.

"How'd you know?" She asks.

"Just a feeling."

“I’m here to lead you down the devil’s path, boy. Time to obtain your soul!” She plays along, leaning forward so her words tickle the back of his neck.

Jesus _Christ_. Bobby can feel himself sweating. He knows he would follow her absolutely anywhere, even into hell.

“You’re _so_ funny.” He shakes his head.

“I am!” She says as he twists around fully to look at her. Her hands slide down his shoulders and fall to her sides. “Thank you.”

“What, no present?” He teases, pointing down to her empty hands.

“Oh, fuck you.” She rolls her eyes and laughs. “We all got you something.” She nods over to where the group is conversing.

“Oh, wow, really?” He was genuinely joking. “I didn’t actually think -”

“That your friends would get you gifts?” She finishes, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No, no. I’m just -” He smiles, feeling that warm dizziness again. “It’s very thoughtful. Thank you.”

“I also have a special present for you later.” She grins, eyes dazzling in the light.

Oh, god. Bobby laughs nervously, feeling the blood drain from his face. 

“Right.” She states, hands on her hips. “We need to get you super drunk.”

“ _Need_ to?”

“Yeah, it’s your birthday!”

He hesitates for a second. He’s all for drinking on his birthday, but he knows he’ll probably end up saying something stupid. Or worse, doing something stupid.

“I don’t know -” He frowns.

“Don’t be a wuss.”

“I’m not a wuss.”

“Okay, you’re a pussy then.” She grins. “You only turn seventeen once.”

Bobby sucks his teeth at her. “Only if you keep up with me.”

“Keep up? Keep _up?_ ” She feigns her offence, scowling at him. “Mate, I’ll drink you under the table.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That sounds like a challenge.” She grabs his hand before he can speak again. “C’mon!”

As per usual, he gets sucked into it. They’re back to their normal selves. And beyond that.

The bulk of the party is outside. Kassam has makeshift turntables set up on one side of the garden, made up of crates and huge speakers. It’s beyond anything Bobby has ever seen or heard before - it’s so loud he can barely hear himself. No wonder his parties get shut down. 

People are dancing and drinking scattered all over the garden, on the patio and around the pool. The lights on the pool floor make the water glow a fluorescent aqua, lighting up everyone around it. It looks so tranquil, like an invitation to dive in at any second. There must be at least over two hundred people here, he doesn’t recognise anyone as Poppy walks them out to the patio. They’re so in sync, she turns to him to ask him the exact same thing.

“Do you know anyone here?” She laughs and bends down as she grabs some beers out of a water cooler, confirming that - _yes_ \- her ass does look amazing in the skirt. Bobby for the life of him keeps his eyes trained up. 

“Fuck no.” Bobby frowns. “I think these are Kassam’s friends. Or just people desperate for free booze.”

“Have you met Kassam before?” She stands up, popping off the bottle caps. 

“Never.” He laughs, taking the beer she holds out for him. 

“He’s pretty quiet.” She nods. “Which is strange considering -” She gestures to the mass of people. “From the way Lottie describes him he seems like one of those jumped up party boys who try to act all mysterious. I’m not buying it.”

“No judgement there at all.” He smiles.

“Mysterious boys are always the most dangerous.”

He’s unable to look away as her lips pull up into a smile before wrapping around the lip of the bottle. Good god. He’s so fucked.

“Tell me something.” She says, tilting her head at him.

“Tell you something?”

“Yeah. That I don’t know about you. Unless you want to remain a mystery.”

Bobby frowns, suddenly forgetting every single detail about himself. Why does this always happen? He stares at his hand wrapped around his beer before placing it on a nearby ledge. He extends his hand out, spreading his fingers and points in between his pinky and ring finger. There’s a large faded scar that extends all the way from between his fingers to his knuckle.

“I got this scar from punching someone at school.” He says.

Poppy laughs, amazed and looks down at his hand. “You? _Punched_ someone?”

“I know right.” He laughs too.

“How did you get into a fight?”

“Uh. My friend Jonno always got into fights at school and I just happened to get roped in. I didn’t really think anything of it at the time, I was pretty angry towards the end of school.” He nods, staring down at his hand.

“Oh,” She frowns. He spots her hand raising up towards his but it hesitates before it falls back to her side. “Why?”

“Just,” He shrugs. “After my dad passed I was always angry.”

The content look on his face falls quickly, delving back into the memory. Poppy doesn’t know what to say, so she stands back, placing her beer on the side too. His eyes bulge when she swiftly untucks her shirt and tugs it up to reveal the side of her ribs. She grins and points to a scar too, sitting right under the edge of a lacey black bra.

“Surfing accident.” She says. 

“You wipe out?” He questions, laughing.

“Badly.” She giggles. “Onto _rocks._ ”

“Oooh.” He winces. “Far from gnarly.”

She keeps asking him about school and his friends, nodding and smiling along to his stories the more excited he gets. Bobby is barely aware of how much he is talking, he never normally talks about himself this long. He doesn’t realise until Poppy finishes her drink, having not said a word for almost ten minutes. She reaches down to the water cooler again but comes back empty.

“Oh,” Bobby notices and holds his hands up. “Lemme get you one. Stay here!” He takes the empty bottle from her and walks back inside.

The kitchen is empty now except for Chelsea, Lottie and Noah, huddled in a corner and giggling. Their conversation stops dead, when Lottie catches sight of Bobby and shushes the others. At first Bobby doesn’t think much of it until he realises all of them are staring at him, with a variety of panicked expressions. Gingerly, he places the beer bottle on the side, before looking back at them.

“What’s going on?” He asks.

“Nothing.” They all say at once. Noah cringes to himself. So unsubtle.

Bobby frowns, glaring at them. “What’s going on?” He asks, sternly this time.

Noah goes to open his mouth but Chelsea and Lottie punch him on the arm before he can get any words out. Bobby steps over to them, way more suspicious now.

“Noah,” He gives him a pointed look. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Oh, you’re evil.” Lottie shakes her head. “You know he’s the weakest.”

“I can’t say.” Noah tries.

“Noah! It’s my birthday!” Bobby pouts.

“Don’t break, Noah!” Chelsea grabs his arm.

“We’re making bets!” Noah blurts.

“ _Noah!_ ” Lottie screeches, punching him even harder than before. 

“Augh!” Noah winces, rubbing his shoulder. “Jesus, you guys are strong.”

“You are weak. Weak!” She shouts.

“Betting on what?” Bobby asks.

“It’s nothing. Really, it’s nothing.” Chelsea rushes as Lottie says. “We’re not betting on anything.”

Bobby turns to Noah again, raising his eyebrows. “ _Noah,_ ”

“We’re making bets on whether you and Poppy are gonna hook-up.” Noah blurts again, grimacing to himself as the words leave him.

“Oh my god.” Lottie throws her arms in the air, rolling her eyes. “Spineless.”

"I'm sorry - I'm nervous." Noah grips his hair with both hands. 

“You’re - you’re what? Who is? You guys?” Bobby looks between them all.

“Everyone.” Chelsea says, gesturing to the rest of the party outside. “Well, everyone in the group.”

“Oh, god.” Bobby stares. People must be assuming things. “Oh… _god_.”

“Save it for Poppy.” Lottie chimes, making the others laugh.

Noah jumps on that straight away. “Ooh, Poppy, oh _Poppy!_ ” Noah tries his best at an scottish accent, before making grotesque and continuous grunting sounds.

Bobby’s face falls, not looking amused in the slightest as the girls shriek with laughter. Lottie starts to join in, adding her own moaning sounds in between Noah’s as Chelsea starts imitating a squeaking bed. Bobby starts shouting "Stop it!" trying to block out the noise but it only encourages them, until the room is impossibly loud with pornographic noises.

“What… the _fuck_ -”

They all shut up, whipping around to see Poppy standing in the doorway. Shit. Bobby feels his stomach drop out of his arse. Instead of looking freaked out, she has a weird smile on her face like she’s about to burst out into hysterical laughter.

“Why was Noah moaning my name?” Poppy asks.

“No reason.” Lottie shakes her head, eyes wide.

“Bullshit, no reason.” She smiles. “Tell me.”

“You don’t wanna know.” Bobby says. God, oh, _god._ This is the most embarrassing thing.

“Try me.”

“It’s _nothing._ ” Chelsea tries.

“Stop lying!” Poppy starts laughing even more.

“We’re making bets that you and Bobby are gonna hook-up.” Lotties shrugs.

Poppy laughs straight away. “No way!”

“Loz!” Bobby shouts.

“What?” Lottie frowns. “She’s gonna find out anyway.”

Poppy looks thoughtful for a moment, her red lips pursing perfectly. That mischievous glimmer is there. 

“Is there money involved?” Poppy asks, stepping over to them.

“Oh, for sure.” Chelsea nods. “I bet Gary fifty quid who was gonna put their arm around each other first.”

“Ooh!” Poppy perks up. “Who’d you say?”

“Bobby, of course.”

“We should get in on this.” Poppy turns to Bobby, with the biggest grin on her face .

Bobby’s heart stops. “Huh?”

“Like, play the game. Make them think they’re about to cash in.” She nods to the group outside.

“Like,” He stares at her, not blinking. “Pretend? That we’re going to…?”

“Yes!” Lottie claps her hands together, energised. “That’d be hilarious!”

“Oh my days,” Chelsea’s mouth begins to open, as the realisation dawns on her. Her eyes are so wide like she’s just landed the jackpot on a slot machine. “We could totally con the others if we tell you what they’re betting on!”

“Exactly.” Lottie nods. “Oh, it’s so evil.” She smiles to herself, clicking her black nails together. “I love it.”

Poppy slides up next to Bobby, bumping their shoulders together. There’s already a light pink dusting on her cheeks from the alcohol.

“Robert, would you like to be my partner in crime?” She grins up at him.

Under her words is a real truth that neither of them seem to realise. 

The way she smiles at him turns his heart beat into a strong kick drum. There’s barely any time in it’s escalation before there’s a full blown church choir in his chest. Not only does his heart beat for her, it sings. ‘Crush’ feels like such an inferior word to how he actually feels. And it scares him, worrying that this is pushing too far. They’ve just established their friendship again.

"I don't know." He shakes his head. 

“Ah, c’mon! It’s just a bit of fun.” She pouts. "We're just friends Bobby. It's fine." She adds, to convince him.

Right. He nods, acting like that doesn't string him. Just friends.

"Yeah." He breathes out. "Just friends."

This whole idea screams bad. But, that's what he likes about her, too blind to see how pear shaped this could go. This isn't what friends do.

“Fine.” He smiles. “Yes, Penelope, I’ll be your partner in crime.” He is going to need many, many drinks for this.

“Yes!” The girls cheer in unison, jumping up excitedly. 

“Your name is Penelope?” Noah turns to Poppy.

“Don’t ask.” She laughs, shaking her head. Her gaze catches Gary’s who's looking at them through the window.

“Right -” She stands up close to Bobby so their legs are pressed together. “Gaz is watching. Put your arm around me and laugh like I just said something really funny.”

The plan is simple. Chelsea, Lottie and Noah continuously move back and forth from them to the group, giving them new tasks. It’s like taking candy from not one, but multiple babies.

A hand on the back scores Noah £40, linking arms gets Lottie £35 and a quick kiss on the cheek lands Chelsea a whopping £100. It’s even more obvious as it leaves a smudge of noticeable red lipstick. It’s all to play for. Holding hands, a hand on the shoulder, bumping hips. Hell, even going to get one another a drink. The money racks up pretty quickly. 

Lottie taps out soon enough, declaring her winnings and stuffing them in her bra. Just as she’s about to excuse herself to the rest of the party, Bobby notices her whisper something inaudible into Poppy’s ear, causing her face to flush. 

It’s the perfect birthday in every sense, like the universe for once is giving him what he wants. Chelsea, Noah and Poppy have been stuck by his side all evening, bantering like they’re been friends for years. The night air is still warm, the beers are freezing cold and the attention isn’t on him. As weird as that sounds, Bobby is completely fine with being lost in the crowd, spending time with some of his new favourite people in the world.

The night continues to go on, song after song and drink after drink. Bobby doesn’t know what number drink they’re on now. Poppy somehow convinces them to do shots. Chelsea is a champ as per usual. After the 4th one Noah couldn’t handle it, retching and spraying tequila spray out his mouth. Bobby is almost in tears, watching him desperately try not to throw up.

Chelsea ropes them into a game of beer pong, her competitive side coming out in full force. There’s a lot of swearing and trash talk. And even more rude gestures. After Bobby misses his 5th shot in a row, Poppy groans and smacks herself on the forehead.

“You’re a fucking terrible shot!” Poppy laughs.

“I’m a great shot!” Bobby shoots back.

The sting only worsens when Noah effortlessly sinks his next attempt, even with how drunk he already is. Poppy sinks hers too, as does Chelsea. It cycles like that until there is only one cup on each side of the table. Bobby steps up to attempt the last shot, trying not to laugh as Chelsea taunts him from the other side of the table, blowing raspberries and sticking her fingers up her nose.

Poppy steps up behind him, resting her hand on the small of his back and reaching for his arm to adjust his position. His heart beats so strong in his chest it feels like it’s trying to escape from his body. He makes the shot, giving them the win. Chelsea looks so angry, Noah has to drag her away from the table so she doesn’t try and flip it.

Eventually, Chelsea and Noah split off, leaving Bobby and Poppy to their own accords. Not that it makes much difference. He’s laughing just as much, maybe even more so. He doesn’t even think to go off and talk to anyone else, he has everything he wants in front of him. It’s too easy with her, both of them enjoying each other’s company like they have so many times now, without the weird tension they’ve had recently. It’s probably the alcohol, but it finally feels like everything is back to normal.

He knows they’re still playing the game, but even in the moments where they’re pretending it feels like so much more. A touch to the arm or the dip of their back, fingers itching to glide down or stay for longer than intended. Each soft touch has genuine feelings laced underneath, both of them too stupid to realise. It certainly earns some interested looks from the others. 

Even in her boots, Poppy rises up on her tip-toes to talk into his ear over the music. She convinces herself that letting her hand rest on his chest or shoulder the more tipsy she gets is just for balance. At one point when she does wobble, her lips press right up against his ear, hot skin to hot skin. Neither of them back away from it, continuing on as normal.

The drunker they get the more uncalculated the casual touches get, eventually getting to the point where they’re not even thinking about the game anymore. By 3am, they’re standing at the far end of the pool, away from the majority of the group. Bobby has no idea where she’s got a bunch of red vines from, but she’s throwing them in the air for him to try and catch with his mouth.

When he finally catches one, throwing his arms up into the air, he almost accidentally elbows someone in the face.

“ _Woah!_ Watch it, dude!”

Bobby turns to see - ugh, Rocco. Instinctively, Bobby stands a little closer to Poppy, unaware of his obnoxious chewing as he glares at him. They watch as Rocco takes his half finished cigarette out from between his lips, throws it to the floor and crushes it with his boot.

“Hey,” Poppy speaks first, thank god. She smiles up at him, blinking slowly and raising her eyebrow in question. “You good?”

“Yeah,” He nods and pauses to take a swig at the whiskey bottle in his other hand. “Can we have a chat?”

Unsure, Poppy doesn’t reply straight away. Bobby stays completely still beside her, feeling the awkwardness drag on the longer no one says anything. The thump of the music sounds even louder. The three of them look so out of place from everyone else dancing around them like they’ve forgotten how to keep still.

“I’m okay here, thanks.” Poppy nods.

“Poppy,” Rocco sighs. “C’mon - I wanna talk to you.” His eyes quickly dart over to Bobby. “Privately.”

“Whatever you wanna say to me you can say in front of Bobby.” She states, staring at Rocco expectantly. 

“Babe, c'mon, don't be like this - _”_

"I'm not being _anything_. And, I’m certainly not _babe_."

"Just come and talk to me then?"

“She said she’s good here.” Bobby interrupts.

Rocco blinks, taken aback. "Oh, and you speak for her now, do you?" He glares at Bobby.

"When you're being a knob to her, yeah."

"What'chu say?" Rocco's eyes widen.

"I _said_ you're being a knob -"

"Oh, leave it out, you two." Poppy rolls her eyes, raising her voice. "You can swing your dicks, but not around me." 

Rocco's jaw clenches, fists tightening before he spins on his heel back to the house.

"I hate whiskey." She says absently, watching him walk away. "I hate when he drinks it."

"Huh?"

"He always gets unnecessarily moody when he drinks that shit." She sighs. 

“Have you ever considered it’s not the alcohol and he’s just a dick?” Bobby asks.

“Daring tonight, aren’t we?” She laughs.

“Oh, c’mon. He’s such a bellend.”

“He’s just a little bit of a bellend.”

“If little means a lot, then yeah, sure.” He shakes his head at her.

Poppy steps back to look at him, laughing hard. Her boot catches on a loose slab on the ground and she stumbles for a second, only to be saved by Bobby’s quick hand.

“Aye! Woah!” He exclaims. “You’re gonna end up in the pool.” He points behind her.

Rocco can still hear the echo of her sweet cackle as he makes his way through the house, walking all the way to the front door and outside. He freezes for a moment, looking over to his truck, only to remember the alcohol running around in his system. For a second he contemplates throwing the bottle, just to hear the satisfying sound of the glass smashing against something but instead takes a seat on the bench next to the front door. 

He drops his bottle to the ground, the glass clinking as it hits the stone. It’s not satisfying in the slightest. Rocco’s head drops into his hands, hiding his face of thunder as his shoulders drop into a miserable slump. 

“Fuck sake.” He mumbles to himself.

The hurried footsteps sounding off the front porch don’t register at all until they’re right beside him.

“Hey, you alright?”

The light, concerned voice snaps his attention. He peeks out from his fingers, to be met with Priya’s face.

“Hey,” Rocco sits up quickly, raking his hand through his hair in quick succession to fix it. “I’m fine, yeah, I’m fine -”

“You sure?” Priya frowns.

“I am.” He sighs, sitting back against the bench. “Just... a shit night.”

Priya nods, shifting from foot to foot looking uncomfortable. Her gaze lands on the door, but she feels a little guilty leaving Rocco out here by himself.

“Are you here to see Bobby?” Rocco suddenly realises, face falling.

“Um - kind of.”

“I’d break up with him if I were you.” He shakes his head.

“What?”

“Poppy’s all over him.”

There’s a beat of silence, taken up by the dull bass of the music coming from the back of the house.

“Oh... right,” She nods, looking at the floor. “Well.. we, uh, we’re… already broken up, actually.”

“Oh,” He doesn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

“Is that why you haven’t been around? You’ve been scarce all week.”

“Kind of. Yeah.” She nods, sighing.

“Don’t blame you.” He says. He stuffs his hands in his pockets as he slouches. She watches as his eyebrows shoot up before he pulls out a lollipop. He turns to her and holds it out. “You want this?”

“A lollipop?” Priya’s laugh is quiet.

“Yeah,” He shrugs. “Used to give ‘em to Poppy all the time when she was quitting smoking but -” He places it into her hand. “You probably need it more than she does.”

Priya tries to smile. “Thanks, Rocco.” She’s surprisingly touched by the small gesture.

She sits next to him on the bench, staring at the pitch black in front of them. Midges dance under the glow of a streetlamp, looking like glitter fluttering in the darkness. The plastic wrapper cracks as she removes it, alongside the sizzle of Rocco lighting up a cigarette. He exhales heavily, smoke swirling in front of them. 

A familiar flavour floods her mouth as she sucks on the lollipop. Cherry. _I know this._ Quickly, the nice simple gesture turns to the beginning of a nasty revelation. An alarm clock is blaring in her head, jarring her out of an ignorant sleep. 

It’s the same cherry she tasted on Bobby’s lips that one night she found him sitting out on the curb.

She frowns, hard, sitting there and letting the sugar begin to melt. Quickly, she pulls it out her mouth, looking over to Rocco.

“You said you gave these to Poppy?” Her voice is panicked.

“Yeah,” He nods, thinking nothing of it. “When she quit smoking -”

They’re cut off as a loud voice screams out “POOL!” before the sounds of whooping and splashing emit from the back garden, along with boisterous laughter. The splashing sounds get louder and louder as people start shouting and yelling. Poppy’s laugh is recognisable from a mile off. And there’s not many people that make her laugh like that. Priya looks to Rocco confused, before she leaps up, chucking the lollipop to the ground and storming through the front door. 

Her focus is all over the place, all she can taste is cherry, the memory of kissing Bobby that night so clear in her mind. But, her tunnel vision leads her, pushing her towards the back of the house, on the hunt for him. She barely realises how fast she’s walking, shoving through complete strangers until she’s out the patio doors leading down to the pool.

It’s chaos. The kind where you’d love it if you were involved. Everyone’s jumping and launching themselves into the pool, all inhibitions and cares out the window as they plummet into the cold water with their clothes on. Priya stands near the edge of the water as people run past her or cheer on those who are, eyes instantly finding Bobby at the other end of the pool. 

Between all the chaos, she stares at a sputtering and giggling Bobby, being clung onto as Poppy breaks the surface of the water. Her arms rest easy around his neck, laughing as she finds her breath again. Poppy mutters something in his ear, setting off both their laughs like harmonising bells. It leaves a distinct mark of red lipstick on his skin, contrasting the cold blue hue surrounding them. It’s the only noise Priya can hear beyond the ringing in her ears. Not the shouting, not the splashing, not the music. Nothing. Just their laughs. 

They’re close enough to kiss, proximity between them screaming more than friends. Priya can’t bear another second, not realising she’s squeezing her hands into fists so tight her nails are threatening to break the skin of her palms.

Just as she turns to leave, she’s caught in the crossfire of more people jumping into the pool, getting dragged in herself. It barely registers until she hits the water, sinking faster than she’s used to. Panic ramps up her heart rate until it’s hammering in her chest. 

Usually, she’s used to hitting the water so gracefully, all those years of professional diving are suddenly nowhere to be seen, she has no idea what to do. Bodies continue to plummet into the water around her, thousands of air bubbles rising and blocking her vision. 

No longer able to hold her breath, she begins clawing at the water, pushing herself up and up. It feels like it goes on forever, until she finally crashes through the walls of water and gulps in the summer night air. She scrambles for the edge of the pool, the opposite direction of everyone else. 

Her heart continues to pound as she pulls herself up and out of the pool, wet clothes suctioned to her and dripping onto the stone beneath. She begins to walk back to the house, heart sinking again hearing Poppy’s laugh over the rush of noise around them. She doesn’t dare look back.

Back in the pool, Hope scrambles up onto Lucas’ shoulders ready for a game of chicken with Chelsea and Gary, oblivious to what’s around them. Everyone’s too caught up in the fun.

“That was a stupid idea.” Bobby grins, blinking water out of his eyes.

“Not my first one of the night.” Poppy says, grinning just as wide.

Bobby laughs, softer this time. The cold water is taking some effect, sobering him up for a split second. Poppy’s hands skim against the back of his neck, so warm it sends an electrifying tremor all throughout his body. Their clothes are soaked, but they’re both so hot underneath, rebelling against the chill of the water. 

They fall into a silence, even among the ruckus around them. Poppy’s eyes blink in wonder, realising how close they are. She can feel his hot skin through her own clothes. Carefully, she reaches up, pushing back the drenched dreads sitting in front of his eyes. Drops of water grip onto his eyelashes, catching the lights around them to shine like diamonds. Her hand shifts to the side of his face, stroking her thumb over the highpoint of his cheekbone, eyes falling to his slightly parted lips.

Bobby stares back, waiting for her eyes to flick back up to his but they don’t. Her hair is drenched, becoming one with her face, soaked curls wetly draped over the structure of her face. That stupid, gorgeous, face. That face that makes him feel like he's being engulfed by the sun. He wonders if she knows how ridiculously crazy she makes him, how it makes him want to feel every inch of her skin. 

She stays there, silently asking him a question that she so badly needs an answer to.

Each second that passes washes away the unseen pain, the doubts, the dread. The way she’s looking at him reminds him of how he admires her, when the world itself ceases to exist. Everything around them is a haze, like blurred and indistinct oil paints on a canvas. 

But, the moment doesn’t last long. Bobby’s overcome with the idea that it’s just the alcohol and nothing else. This can’t be real.

Someone like her couldn’t possibly like him.

 _She just wants to be friends, remember? Just friends._

“Uh,” He sighs, gently taking her hand away from his face. “We should get out. You must be freezing.”

Poppy blinks in surprise, trying not to show the sudden devastation taking over her. Now she can feel the icy cold, in the shape of his words and piercing straight through her chest.

“Oh, uh, yeah -” She nods, pushing herself away from him. “Okay.”

Reality sets in just as quickly as they were sucked out of it, everything around them still loud and chaotic. Henrik lifts Marisol over his head before chucking her into the water again, making her squawk with laughter. Poppy quickly swims up to the pool edge, hauling herself out and heading straight for the house, too fast for Bobby to even think about following. She’s lost in the sea of people before Bobby can get out himself.

Her legs carry her quickly, knowing that the hotness in her face is escalating, soon to be tears. And she’s right. She scrubs a hand over her face as she walks through the house, sadness rudely overtaking her, coming to the realisation that she probably crossed the line. She pushed too far and he pushed back. 

_You have an answer now,_ she thinks.

Not wanting to be seen, she dashes to the nearest bathroom, stopping dead when the door doesn’t open. She jiggles the handle, realising it’s locked.

“Occupied!” A muffled voice comes from inside, but Poppy’s gone by the time they’ve called out.

Inside the bathroom, an unknowing Priya sits on top of the toilet seat, staring miserably at the floor. Her wet hair frames her face, dead straight and clinging to her arms and shoulders. Her eyes shift from side to side, trying for the life of her to get the image of them out of her head. But, it sticks, taunting her - showing her the truth. She doesn’t want to believe it. 

Tears continue to well up behind her closed eyes, sliding down her cheeks and dripping off onto the tiled floor. Her chest heaves, unable to quieten her sobs as she brings a hand to her mouth. Another cry escapes, louder than before as her shoulders begin heaving. 

A soft knock at the door interrupts her.

“ _Hello? Are you okay?_ ”

“I’m fine.” She calls back, scrubbing at her face. “It’s fine -”

“You don’t sound fine.” They say louder.

Priya’s face falls, recognising the voice behind it. Slowly she walks over to the door, hand hovering over the handle before she unlocks it and cracks the door open slightly, to reveal a concerned looking Noah.

“Priya?” His voice simmers down, speaking so softly. “Hey, are you… are you okay? I didn’t even know you were here.”

She opens the door fully, wiping at her face again.

“I’m fine.” She can’t meet his eyes, it’s too embarrassing. The tears betray her again and she hiccups. “I’m - it’s -”

“Hey, hey -” Noah gently places a hand on her shoulder. “What’s going on? You’re soaking wet.”

Priya can’t answer, gulping breaths blocking out any words she tries to come out with. Noah looks around, before turning back to her and taking her hands. 

“C’mon, lets, uh -” He starts leading her away from the noise of the party. “Let's find you some dry clothes.”

He leads her to one of the many guest bedrooms upstairs, way too scared to enter Chelsea’s room as she would probably cause him some more bodily harm. Priya gingerly sits on the end of the neatly made bed, starting to feel the cold run down into her bones. Noah leaves and returns less than a minute later with his night bag, dumping the contents next to her.

“Um… you can wear my clothes. It’s fine,” He waves a hand before pointing down to a sweatshirt. 

The same sweatshirt Poppy leant to him on heist night. Bobby’s sweatshirt. 

“That’ll probably fit you better than me, it’s Poppy’s.” He laughs, trying to make the atmosphere light. It doesn’t seem to work, Priya’s face just screws up instead.

“Thanks, Noah.” She nods, sniffling.

Noah nods back, giving her shoulder a squeeze before turning to leave. But it doesn’t feel right. He stares at the door, lingering, not sure what to do. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, turning back around to face her.

Priya’s slumped shoulders and reluctance to move as new tears stream down her face is an answer in itself. He walks back over to her, kneeling in front of her. After a few silent minutes she does.

“Me and Bobby broke up.” She says, her voice trembling on a shaky exhale. 

He doesn’t say a word, reaching over and grasping her hand in his. She starts shaking her head, like she’s trying to rattle herself into talking.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He questions, almost silently.

After another painstakingly long silence, Priya nods.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Bobby finds himself reeling in a silence of his own.

It’s completely empty, everyone is still enjoying themselves outside. He doesn’t know what time it is, but it must be late. Or early. Considering whether you went to bed or not. Either way he can see the beginnings of the blue enter the sky, no longer a pitch black but a deep navy.

The house looks like utter shit. Empty bottles, cans and cups lie everywhere, littering each and every surface. He wipes his hand over the kitchen counter, grimacing as he runs through some old stock beer. 

Suddenly, there’s movement in the room and before he can look over his shoulder, two burning hot hands sneak up from behind him and clasp over his eyes. He freezes and laughs, confused until he feels whoever it is press up against his back.

“Birthday boy.” She says.

It’s so easy for him to recognise that voice now, it’s ridiculous.

“Satan?” Bobby asks, just like earlier, prompting the laugh he so madly enjoys.

He turns, smiling to see Poppy just as giddy and staring back at him. 

“Ah, no. The next best thing.” He grins, facing her fully now.

Poppy throws her head back and laughs again, just as loud as before. Bobby’s smile falters just a little bit, watching her sway on the spot before steadying herself by grabbing his arm. The more he looks at her the more apparent her drunken state is. Glassy eyes and pink cheeks. Her hair is sat in a messy bun on her head, clothes still a little damp from the pool water.

“You’re so funny.” She slurs. Her eyes are squinting, staring right at his chest like she is really trying to focus on her words. She pokes him. “So. Funny.” She repeats, brows furrowing.

“You’re drunk.” He states.

“I am.” She nods, looking up at him again.

“Like, really drunk.”

“You just said that.”

“I know.” He shakes his head, trying to understand what’s happening. “Are you alright?”

“Are _you_ alright?” She shoots back.

"I'm fine."

He’s never seen her this drunk before. Poppy makes a content noise, breath fanning out and tickling under Bobby’s chin. He can smell whiskey and… smoke? He knows in an instant where she’s been the past hour.

“Are you… smoking again?” He asks, trying to keep his voice gentle.

“Yeah? Why?”

“Nothing, I just… I just thought you quit.”

“Well, I wanted to un-quit.” She glares at him.

Bobby’s still kinda tipsy himself, but not as much as he was a few hours ago. The way she’s staring at him makes his skin crawl with nerves. Whatever is racing through her head is making her look slightly angry, maybe even on the verge of upset. Bobby can’t breathe, as if his lungs are filling with water and weighing down on his chest like a weight made of lead. He tries to suck in air but his throat is too tight. He’s drowning in his nervousness.

“Told you I could drink you under the table.” She mumbles, poking at his chest.

Bobby lets out a small laugh, smiling down at her.

Before he knows it, she grabs at his face, hands uncoordinated with her thoughts and surges up to kiss him. 

It’s messy and clumsy, their lips meeting so unlike how fate had planned it. It’s too out of the blue for Bobby to move out of the way, their lips meeting in an awkward mash. He automatically holds her as she parts his lips with her own and tries to slip her tongue next to his, until the instincts kick in and he pulls away. 

It feels so, _so_ wrong. She isn’t in any kind of sober state for this.

“Poppy - you’re really drunk.” He sighs, looking away from her eyes.

“I’m kissing you -”

“You’re smashed.”

“And?”

“I’m not gonna… this is wrong -”

“What?” She stumbles back from him, clearly unable to hold herself up anymore so Bobby rushes forward and grabs at her arms to keep her in place. “It’s just a kiss.”

Those words seem to strike a chord in him. And not a very nice one. 

“Just a kiss?” He asks.

“I kiss people all the time when I’m drunk.” She dramatically rolls her eyes.

Bobby just nods. He doesn’t want this to be some drunk mistake, like he had with Priya. He wants this to be real. He wants her for her. Poppy’s face screws up, like she’s in pain before it washes away just as quickly.

“I’m gonna throw up.” She says plainly, trying to focus on his chest.

“I didn't think I was that bad of a kisser.” He replies, not knowing what else to do but joke about it.

Unaware of her volume, Poppy laughs loud and sudden. But, almost instantly, her face drops again. Before Bobby can even _think_ about moving, she bows her head before retching and puking all over his trainers. 

Huh. That’s a weirdly familiar feeling.

They both stand there in shock, staring down and realising she's just blown chunks on him.

"Oh. You meant you were going to throw up, like, right now." He murmurs, with wide eyes.

"Yeah." She mumbles.

Her hands blindly reach out for him, trying to keep her balance. Naturally, his hands reach out for her too, holding her close so she doesn’t wobble. His sobriety kicks in, as she becomes dead-weight against him before he lifts her up. She groans in protest but doesn’t make a move to get out of his arms. He opts for putting her over his shoulder, like they’ve practised so much in training now. He figures if he carries her bridal style someone would be bound to catch them.

Trying not to gag, he toes off his sick soaked shoes, carefully walking around the puddle of vomit. He carries her through the house and up the stairs, relieved to see Chelsea’s room labelled with a little wooden sign hanging on the door. Thankfully, it’s empty too.

Chelsea's room is nothing like Bobby imagined it to be. It's beautiful and modern. Her bed is an extravagant piece of furniture, with long white bed posts that have been beautifully carved with great detail. Lavish, pink fabric drapes from the posts, to match the floor to ceiling curtains lining the giant french windows on the other side of the room. 

You wouldn't be able to tell that this room belonged to a teenager, much too adult. But if you look closely, the small posters and stickers dotted on the furniture tell you otherwise. Bobby squints his eyes to see she's carved her name into the wood of her dresser. And right next to it, in smaller letters is Gary’s name. Weird.

Trying to be careful, Bobby sets Poppy down on the bed. It would be a tender moment, hadn’t he accidentally knocked her head into the headboard.

“Ow!” Poppy winces, then starts laughing.

“Sorry! Sorry, sorry -”

“Clumsy git.” She swings an arm out, with her eyes closed and still laughing.

“It was an accident!” He laughs too.

“Y’know, I think knocking my head into a headboard tonight was part of those bets the guys were doing.” Poppy murmurs, cracking up to herself.

Bobby blushes, shaking his head at her. “You’re so drunk.” He moves to start unlacing her boots.

“Fuck you. No I’m not.” She slurs.

“Fuck _you._ Yes you are.” He teases too, pulling her first boot off.

The silent air is so brittle it could snap. And if it doesn’t, Bobby swears he is going to. He moves over to her other boot, beginning to unlace it in the silence. There is no sound in the house except for the thump of the music outside, reverberating around the room. Poppy lets out a slow breath as he finally pulls her other boot off. It drops to the floor and her body slackens, melting into the bed. 

“I’m gonna get you some water, okay?” He murmurs.

Poppy makes a sleepy content noise and attempts a thumbs up, still not opening her eyes. Bobby leaves the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Further down the hall someone exits a room too. The familiar red tinted hair whipping around makes his heart sink.

“Priya.” He says gently, not realising it’s out loud.

Her head snaps in his direction, locking eyes with him. Her stare grows wide, enough to show the red rim around her eyes as she realises it’s him. Her gaze lands on his lips, turning her face sour.

“What are you doing here?” He asks. He doesn’t mean for it to sound vindictive, but Priya takes it that way, instantly frowning at him.

“I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.” She bites. “But, I’m starting to re-think it.”

“I’m sorry, no, I’m sorry -” He steps over to her. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just -”

Bobby cuts himself off, jaw snapping up. He frowns harder, staring down at the Star Wars logo splashed across the front of the sweatshirt she’s wearing.

“How did you get my sweatshirt?” He asks, frowning.

Priya’s eyes go impossibly wide.

“This… is your sweatshirt?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Did you take it?”

“Noah gave it to me. He told me it was Poppy’s.” She answers.

“Oh.”

“Oh my god,” She shakes her head, laughing. "You gave it to her, didn't you?"

Fuck. He remembers now. After they stood in the rain together.

“I -”

“You like her, don’t you?” Priya exclaims, staring straight at him.

“What?”

“Poppy.” She states, a little bit louder. “You like her don’t you. This _whole_ time you’ve liked her -”

“Priya, what is going on -”

“Please, just tell me the truth.” She looks at his lips, tears brimming at the edges of her eyes all over again. “Please -”

“I liked you _._ ” He says. “She has nothing to do with any of this.”

“She has everything to do with this!” She yells.” Please! Bobby, just, tell me the truth,” She stares at him, the white of her eyes turning so red it looks painful. Tears stream down her face and her voice begins to wobble. “I can’t do this - I won’t. Not anymore. I can’t be second to Poppy, I -” She wheezes, breaths coming out broken. 

“You’ve never been second to her -”

“I’ve been second to her this _whole time_ ,” She grabs at the sweatshirt on her to make a point. “Please just tell me.” 

Priya feels sick, she can still taste that cherry lollipop. Her fingers itch to rip the sweatshirt off of her. Poppy is everywhere, even in places she didn’t know. She can’t escape.

“Priya -” Bobby reaches out but she jerks away as soon as he moves.

“ _No,_ Bobby,” She snaps. “You can’t just talk your way out of this. None of that charmer bullshit!”

“I’m _not_ -”

"Did you kiss her?" She asks, and does so again before he can answer, words tumbling out of her. "Did you fuck her!?"

“No! _God_ , no, wouldn’t do anything like that - I didn’t -”

“Tell me the truth.”

“I _am_ -”

“Then why would you give her your sweatshirt!?” Her gaze is fixed on his lips. He can’t tell whether she’s longing or angry.

“I didn’t do anything! I’m telling you the _truth._ ”

Priya just stares at him, stares and stares and _stares_ , silently crying. Her eyes are full of untold pain, a storm that he knows he wouldn’t win against. He doesn’t recognise them, wishing to see that glowing amber from when they would lounge on the beach together.

He sighs. “I liked you, Priya. I really, really did. So much.”

“You say that like it means anything now.” She whispers.

Priya stays rooted on the spot, her features set and sharp, she's so angry. Her eyes rake all over his face. Bobby can see the blood draining from her face, her presence disappearing quickly.

“I haven't done anything.” He repeats, trying to reassure. “I wouldn’t hurt you on purpose.”

A bitter, shrill laugh bursts out of her, it’s almost scary. Slowly she reaches up, swiping her thumb across his lips, digging in hard into his skin. He blinks as she pulls away, presenting the pad of her thumb to him. His heart doesn’t sink, it begins to freefall into the nothing beneath him.

Dark cherry red. Poppy’s lipstick.

“You’re a fucking awful liar.” Priya says, quietly.

He’s frozen. Staring at her and seeing all the truths unravelling in front of them. To them, the other looks like a stranger, but somehow worse. Instead of the bubbly, caring soul he once knew is now an enemy. 

She takes the sweatshirt off, staring at him as she neatly folds it up in her arms and hands it over to him.

“Happy birthday.” She mumbles.

The footsteps of her walking away roar, the reverb echoing throughout the hallway until it fades into nothing as she disappears. He stares down at his hands, the crumpled sweatshirt feeling like the ashes of their burnt out relationship. He’s dumbstruck, unable to fathom that this is how it ends. But, it is.

His own tears come quick but silent.

Fuck. He hates his birthday.

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guyyyysss 🙃
> 
> what a mess
> 
> if you are not already, come and join myself and other litg ff writers & artists on the r/LITGFanFiction subreddit!! it's dedicated to all things creative, brainstorming and general ff discussion!
> 
> kudos, comments, shouting at me on twitter @l0singface or tumblr @losingface is always highly appreciated!
> 
> and, most importantly, thank you for reading! 💛


	21. Please Leave A Message!

**

  
  


**Poppy**

_09:23_

Hungover is an understatement.

So far from the actual truth that it is barely visible. This feels like an early death. Being hungover right now would actually be a blessing. 

Poppy wakes up in increments. First it’s her hearing, as a soft tinkle of songbirds fills her ears alongside the gentle sway of palm trees in the morning breeze. Then it’s her eyes, snapping open from the sudden rush of adrenaline. Probably her brain making sure she actually isn’t dead. Last it’s her body, muscles feeling impossibly heavy and her brain screaming at her, in desperate need for any kind of hydration.

Pain. Oh, so much pain. She’d rather wipe out onto a rock bed all over again.

Slowly, she pushes herself up, wincing and squinting from the soft morning light filtering in through the closed curtains. She looks around, taking in her surroundings and realising she is not in her own room. She looks down at the unfamiliar bedspread beneath her, coming to terms that she is still at Chelsea’s place. Her lipstick is smudged all over one of the pillows. Fuck. She groans, rubbing the back of her hand on her lips, instantly remembering all the stupid shit she did last night.

The bets. Drinking. Jumping into the pool. _More drinking_. Throwing up. And ultimately - literally the cherry on top of a shit tier cake - trying to kiss Bobby.

But, the worst, the _worst_ ... was hearing Priya arguing with him right before she passed out. Over her. _About_ her. She didn’t hear everything, but it was enough.

Priya knows she kissed him.

Embarrassment doesn’t fully describe the feeling. She feels more ashamed than anything, making her groan again. With all the stupid teenage antics she’s squeezed in the past few years, she’s not normally one to make it onto the chunder chart. She can normally handle her drink pretty well. It feels like it takes all her strength just to get up into a sitting position. Her head hangs between her shoulders, wild curls spilling over her as she blinks and focuses on the floor. She reaches over for her discarded boots, confused as to when she took them off.

Very slowly she makes her way downstairs, boots in hand, to be met with a bombsite. It makes her heart sink a little. There’s rubbish everywhere, scuffs on doors and the walls. Someone’s even expertly decorated the hallway flooring with some graffiti. There’s random discarded clothes in some weird places. Some are still soaking wet from jumping into the pool. There’s a bra hanging from the chandelier hanging in the foyer. Poor Chelsea doesn’t deserve this.

Poppy shuffles towards the kitchen, gagging for a glass of water when Chelsea suddenly walks out of the downstairs bathroom. Her fingers are toying with the back of her dungarees like she’s got a wedgie. Her cheeks are a little pink and hair sporadic. She jumps as she sees Poppy in her periferal.

“Oh! Poppy! Hey! _Hey_. How’s it going?” She stays standing in front of the bathroom door, quickly tucking her hair behind her pink ears.

“Hey Chels.” Poppy squints at her. “You good?”

“Mhm.” She nods quickly. 

The bathroom door opens and Chelsea quickly grabs the handle and pulls it back to. A confused voice shouts as it closes again. Chelsea looks very panicked. Poppy knows Chelsea is a bit weird but this is… a new type of weird. A side Poppy’s never seen before. Very weird.

“Chels?” Poppy asks, one eyebrow arching up. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Hm? I’m fine.”

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” She shakes her head, wrestling with the door as it begins to open again.

“Chelsea.” Poppy starts laughing. "What’s going on?”

“I - uh, well… I may have -“

“Chels, what the fuck?” A voice bellows as the door opens again, too forceful for her to do anything.

Poppy knows that voice. Is that - oh. _Oh._

She watches as Gary walks out, looking very pissed off. He straightens up as soon as he sees Poppy, face going pale. Chelsea covers her face with her hands.

“Oh. Hey!” Gary’s voice squeaks. “Hey, I didn’t know you were out here. How’s it going?”

“Your shirt is on backwards.” Poppy says, pointing to his chest.

Gary stares down at himself, with no idea what to say. It’s so quiet, Poppy can hear the songbirds from outside again. But, she doesn’t need to say anything, the situation in front of her says enough - and it’s hilarious. Poppy just stares, her eyes going from an embarrassed Chelsea then up to an even more mortified Gary and back down again. She raises her eyebrows, giving Chelsea a knowing smile when she finally catches her eye again.

“Well!” Gary chimes, a bit too loudly and claps his hands together. “I better be off, then. Nice to see you.” He nods. “And you, Chelsea.”

He pats Chelsea very awkwardly on the shoulder before turning to leave. The girls both watch as Gary heads straight for the front door and quickly makes an exit, still having his shirt on backwards. They stand there for a few silent seconds after the door slams closed.

“Good for you, girl.” Poppy grins, giving Chelsea a bump on the shoulder with her fist.

“Please don’t tell the guys.” Chelsea panics. “My life will be ruined.”

“Because you got with Gary?” She laughs.

“ _I did not -_ ” Chelsea shuts her mouth, reasling how loud she is. “We, just, y’know. We talked.”

"Talked? In a bathroom?"

"Yeah. Talked. In a bathroom."

"Is that code for shagged?" Poppy asks, a bit too loudly for Chelsea’s liking.

Chelsea waves her hands about, shushing her. Someone passed out on one of the living room sofa’s groans, rolling over and falling asleep again.

“Oh, god -” Poppy screws her eyes shut and pinches her nose. “Please. Less noise. My head is killing me.”

“Just don’t tell anyone!” Chelsea repeats, quieter this time.

Poppy nods, still holding her nose. “Promise.” She mumbles, holding out her pinky finger.

Chelsea breathes out a sigh of relief, the initial pink in her cheeks finally dimming down. They shake pinkies, strong and firm, both of them giggling. Poppy lingers for a second, rubbing the back of her neck, trying to urge her rampant thoughts into words.

“I’m sorry your house got trashed.” Poppy comes up with. “Where are your parents?”

“Oh. They, uh,” She pauses looking down at her hands ringing together. “They got bored of Spain pretty quickly so decided to go interrailing across Europe for the rest of the summer. I didn’t want to go, so opted to stay until they got back.” She shrugs, trying to not look bothered.

“What?” Poppy stares. “You’re here by yourself?”

“It’s fine.” Chelsea waves a hand. “It happens. A lot. Single child and all that.”

Poppy just nods, not wanting to probe any further. “Well. I’m still sorry your house got trashed.”

“Eh,” Chelsea shrugs. “I was kind of expecting it to be honest. I just wish it was an actual birthday party for Bobby, instead of like, I don’t know, some random house party. We didn’t even give him his present.”

Fuck. Poppy looks around for a second, realising she never gave Bobby her gift either. She can see it buried among the mess on one of the kitchen counters. God, the longer she looks around the more of a mess she can see. Poppy takes a deep breath, trying to take control of the wave of nausea rushing over her. She dumps her boots by the door, ties her hair into a bun and walks back over to Chelsea.

“Lemme help you clean up.” She says.

“Oh, no -” Chelsea shakes her head. “It’s fine, really -”

“ _Nope,_ ” Poppy stresses, shaking a finger at her like only a mother would. “You’re not doing this on your own.” She laughs. “And I doubt anyone else is going to be up for hours.”

Chelsea nods, trying to hide her giddy smile. 

“But, before anything else I need to chug some water.” Poppy groans and smiles, making them both laugh.

There is a calmness when it comes to cleaning. 

Every cup and wrapper and piece of trash getting picked up makes the house feel lighter and brighter. Poppy insists she starts in the kitchen whilst Chelsea takes on the lounge. She gags, almost on the verge of throwing up again, as she picks up Bobby’s puke covered shoes and dumps them into a trash bag. Neither of the girls say a word to each other, milling around the different rooms and dumping full trash bags by the door to take out later. Chelsea prods the asleep stranger on her couch, shooing them out of her house when they finally get to their feet. 

The longer they clean, the more at ease Poppy feels. She stays in that calm trance, breathing deep and invoking no serious thoughts. It’s the perfect distraction from what is lingering in the back of her mind. When they move to the outside, Poppy watches as Chelsea uses the pool net to fish out a piece of clothing, both of them bursting into laughter when they see it’s a grey pair of boxers.

The house remains silent as the soft sound of the broom sweeps against the wooden floors, signalling the finishing touches of their team-effort clean up. From beneath the chaos emerges the beautiful mansion again. The girls share a glass of cold water together, leaning up against the now pristine counters in the kitchen, staring out the window and watching the water in the pool ripple.

“Thank you, Poppy.” Chelsea says, setting her glass down. “Really did me a huge favour.”

Poppy shrugs. “You shouldn’t have to do anything alone.”

They both look up to the ceiling, listening to some movement from upstairs. A door opens and closes and it goes quiet again. Poppy’s stare falls back down again, landing on the gift she was supposed to give Bobby last night. She bites her lip, rocked with the idea of just throwing the gift away and being done with it. But, it stares back at her, making her skin itch. Chelsea seems to notice.

“You should give it to him.” Chelsea nods her head towards the present.

“Huh?” Poppy flushes.

“Bobby’s gift. You should give it to him.”

Poppy shakes her head. “No, it’s - I don’t think I should. It’s stupid.” She sighs.

“It’s from you. I doubt he’ll think it’s anywhere near stupid.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, of course.”

They share a few more beats of silence.

“Can I tell you something?” Poppy asks Chelsea, keeping her eyes on the kitchen tile.

“Of course.” Chelsea says.

Poppy sighs, heavily. “I heard him and Priya arguing last night.” She continues to stare at the floor, letting the words fall out of her. In some way it feels like a relief, but her nausea now feels ten times as worse.

“Oh.” Chelsea sighs too. “Do you know why?”

“It was about me.” Poppy adds, looking up at her. “I think they broke up.”

Chelsea just stares back, her eyes darting between Poppy’s. Both of them are exhausted, hard for either of them to hide what they’re really thinking under the surface. Chelsea feels her heart squeeze, noticing how upset Poppy is.

“Should… um, should I -” Poppy gestures to herself, not even able to say it. “Should I talk to him?”

Chelsea’s smile flashes in and out of existence quickly. Poppy watches as she leaves the room and returns less than a minute later with a marker in her hand. The blond takes Poppy’s and begins writing a phone number on her skin, not saying a word. Dramatically, she clicks the lid back on the marker, with an even bigger smile.

“Yes.” Chelsea nods. “Definitely talk to him.”

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby**

_11:17_

Bobby wakes up to the sound of the front door slamming.

He shoots up, heart beating so hard from adrenaline, it feels like he’s just taken a hit to the chest. There’s a faint sound of the gravel outside shifting as someone walks down the driveway to the street. An arm he didn’t even realise that was resting on his chest drops to his lap like heavy weight. Bobby’s attention shoots over, to see that it belongs to Noah, feeling some kind of relief. And then confusion. He has no memory of falling asleep next to Noah. 

Noah is completely passed out, twisted up in a position that does not look comfortable at all. His mouth is wide open, letting his loud snores out. Bobby looks around him, realising he’s in some random guest room in the house.

“Noah,” Bobby moves his arm off of him and shakes his shoulder. “ _Noah._ ” He says a little bit louder, only to be met with more snoring.

Bobby twists around, grabbing one of the pillows on the bed and smacks him over the head with it. Still nothing. Noah doesn’t even flinch. He must be properly conked out. Great. Quickly, his body begins to catch up with him, everything from last night starting to sink in. There’s a deep ache in his muscles and his mouth feels like sandpaper. He gets up from the bed, carefully making his way through the room and quietly closing the door. 

Instantly, his eyes land on Chelsea’s door. More inner dread starts to kick in, flashes of him and Poppy together in his mind. He begins to fight with himself, wanting to walk over to the door and wanting to go downstairs instead. He takes another look to see that the door is slightly ajar.

Bobby tip-toes over, lightly pushing at the door until it fully opens. Light spills into the room, painting a stripe on the bed where Poppy would be. But, she’s not, making him slightly relieved and slightly panicked. God. Even when she’s not here she’s messing with his head.

The sight of a clean house is definitely not what he was expecting when making his way downstairs. It’s beyond clean. The wooden and marble flooring is sparkling in the bright morning light. He makes his way to the kitchen, sticking his mouth under the faucet, desperate gulping water until he can’t anymore. Slightly refreshed, he realises his shoes are _nowhere_ to be seen. Fuck. He looks down at his feet, realising he’s going to have to walk home in just his socks. _Fuck._

Wanting to say goodbye, he sticks his head into each and every room, trying to find Chelsea but she is nowhere to be found. Even the garden is empty. Vanished again. 

Finally, he makes his way out the house, raising his hand up to his face and cowering away from the sun. Ugh. Too bright. The stones under his feet hurt, making him walk faster than normal, even with the ache in his muscles. God, this is ridiculous. He must look like a loon.

As he turns out the gates, he catches a familiar flash of red. Rocco’s truck is still parked across the street, with the window cracked open. Bobby can see a little tuft of hair resting against the window, blowing in the wind.

All he can think about is how much of a dick Rocco is, but some deep rooted part of Bobby wants to say sorry for last night for his own dickish behaviour. Or just at least try and see eye-to-eye. That rational part of him dies when he remembers how drunk Poppy was after seeing him. Fuck it.

He walks over, peering through the window to see Rocco fast asleep, up against the door. He raps on the glass with his knuckle three times, loud enough to make Rocco jolt up. He winces, holding his head in pain. Probably from a hangover. _Good_ , Bobby thinks. Rocco twists around, eyes squinting in the bright sun beaming through the car. His face fully falls when he sees it’s Bobby. Bobby taps on the glass again just before Rocco rolls the window down.

“You’re even more annoying when I have a hangover.” Rocco grumbles, sitting up in his seat.

“Har-har.” Bobby murmurs, straight faced. “Have you seen Chelsea?”

“Nope.”

“Have you seen Poppy?”

“Did you lose her? That’s surprising since you guys were basically attached at the hip last night.”

“Just answer the question.”

“No, I haven’t seen her.” He shakes his head. “Not since last night.”

“Oh,” Bobby’s eyebrows shoot up. “So, when you got her incredibly drunk?”

“She did that herself.” Rocco says. “I just happened to be there.”

“Yeah, to give her the bottle.”

“She was upset. No thanks to _you._ ”

“What?”

“You’re such an idiot.” Rocco sighs heavily, rubbing a hand over his face.

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“Literally, the most extraordinary girl -” Rocco gestures to the air, waving his arms about, unable to find words. “- right in front of you. She, ugh... y’know what -” He opens the glovebox, pulling out a notepad and pen. Bobby watches as he furiously scribbles down a phone number, rips the paper out of the notebook and hands it to him through the window. “Here.”

Bobby hesitates before taking it from him. “A phone number?”

“Yes, dilweed.” Rocco rolls his eyes. “To call her. I shouldn’t even be doing this. Just talk to her, alright?” 

Rocco doesn’t give him a chance to answer, clearly done with the conversation. Rocco grabs his keys out of his pocket and starts his truck, drowning out the noise around them. Bobby steps back, watching as Rocco just stares ahead, shaking his head as he drives away. 

  
  


**

  
  


**Poppy**

_12:13_

Ever since getting home this morning, Poppy’s been lying in bed and feeling incredibly sorry for herself with no intention of seeing the outside again. Bleugh.

The ache in her skull throbs whenever she even thinks about moving. Death would be kinder. She understands why it’s called a hangover now, the darkest and angrist of clouds are lingering over her head, with no inkling of clearing any time soon. She’s sure her head is about ready to crack open.Even after chugging unless amounts of water and attempts to eat something, nothing seems to be working. 

Though, there’s a part of her that believes that it’s not just the hangover that’s making her feel this shitty. Her gift to Bobby sits on her dresser, illuminated by a singular stripe of sunshine that seems to have broken in through her closed blinds. _Fuck sake._ Stupid sun. She rolls over to face the wall instead, burying herself further into the duvet.

Her head throbs again when the smallest thought of Bobby enters her mind.

The longer she stays in bed, the more this notion inside of her continues to grow. She tries to fight it but it fights back twice as hard, threatening to get out and send her running. She can feel it brimming at the surface, like it always has been the past few weeks, but now it’s closer than ever. The voice in her head is continuous, louder than anything she has ever heard before. _Let it happen, just let it happen_. Slowly, she pushes the covers off herself and sits up at the edge of the bed.

She looks down at her hand, Bobby’s phone number staring back at her. She tries to come up with every excuse in the book to not call him. _What if it’s the wrong number? What if he’s not in? What if someone else picks up instead?_ The stark black ink against her skin is too prominent to ignore, screaming at her to go to the phone in the hallway. 

Her stomach rolls over, making her feel even worse than before and forcing her back into bed. She pulls the duvet all the way over her head, hoping it somehow blocks out the noise of the phone silently taunting her from outside her room. It doesn’t.

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby**

_12:47_

Bobby gets home just in time to catch his family making their way into town for the day. Beth bombards him with what feels like a million questions about the party and many motherly smooches to his cheeks.

_“Did you have fun? Were all your friends there? You didn’t drink too much did you? Did you get any gifts?”_

She was a little suspicious of his one word, reserved answers. But, she figures from the bags under his eyes he’s ready to crawl into bed. And he is. Very much so. For the next 24 hours probably. As fun as drinking is, it’s becoming harder to justify when it completely wipes you out for the next day or so. 

Emily isn’t so kind and asks “Where are your shoes?” as she points down to his sock clad feet. 

They all look down. Bobby included. He swears he hears Terry let out a little laugh.

“Long story.” Bobby sighs, wiggling his toes. “I’m gonna go shower.”

Emily gives him a suspicious smile as Beth pulls him in for one more goodbye kiss on the forehead. Bobby watches the door close behind them, staring at their blurry figures walk down to the street through the foggy glass. 

After a much needed long hot shower, he quickly wraps a towel around himself and starts picking up his discarded clothes from the bathroom floor. The faint crinkle of paper slices through the silence in the room, making his heart stop. He pulls the paper out of his shorts pocket and stares down at the scribble of numbers.

As much as he really doesn’t like the idea of taking Rocco’s advice, he knows he’s right. He really needs to call her. The longer he stares down at the number, the stronger the urge is. 

But the fear is just as strong. There’s no way she would want to talk to him now. 

  
  


**

**Poppy**

_16:02_

The call for food is too strong to keep Poppy in bed all day.

She pads out of her room, not thinking much of it until she catches sight of the phone and stopping in front of it. 

She stares at it, not blinking as her eyes dart over the numbers. Just the idea of calling him feels like a weight, bearing down on her shoulders. And the longer she stands there the heavier it feels, like it’s going to push her down straight through the floor. But, she doesn’t want to be rooted to the floor. Whatever this whirlwind is, that seems to be quickly approaching, she wants to be unbound and taken with it. More than anything she wants to call him. More than anything she wants to tell him how she feels. 

An impulse kicks in, her hand suddenly grabbing the handset. She stares down at her hand again, beginning to dial slowly. Just as she punches in the last number she hangs it up, making a loud _clack_ sound. Fuck. Nope, nope, _nope._ The nausea is back.

Quickly, she makes her way to the bathroom, running the tap for a few seconds. She splashes cold water onto her face, just to feel some kind of relief and wishing it could instantly wash away this nausea too. She does it again and again, each time feeling more refreshing than the last until she can feel the chill in her teeth. She turns the tap off, gripping the edge of the basin and staring down into the drain, envious of the water running away.

When she lifts her head up, the mirror taunts her with her exhausted expression. Bags under her puffy eyes looking heavier than ever. The complete opposite of the glammed up version of herself before heading out for Bobby’s birthday party last night.

“Fuck,” She swears down at the sink. “ _Fuck._ ” She repeats.

She wipes down her face with her shirt, tucking some of her now soaked curls behind her ears. The call for food is back, louder than before and makes her stomach gurgle.

Sandwich first. Then maybe a phone call.

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby**

_18:30_

Bobby’s always kinda considered himself a procrastinator. Even a little bit lazy. And definitely an emotional thinker. But, this is beyond anything he has ever experienced.

For hours he’s been pacing about the house, up and down the stairs, opening and closing the fridge trying to convince himself he’s busy. He can barely stay seated on his bed for more than 30 minutes before he ends up downstairs for _something,_ which is really nothing _._ Not even listening to music can keep him still.

His thoughts are laced with anxiety and pure joy from the idea of calling her. He feels like a huge mess. _Why would Rocco give me her number? Did she actually want to kiss me? Is she even at home?_

Every time he passes the phone, he gives it a little side eye and prays that it will somehow magically start ringing and Poppy’s sweet voice will be on the other end for whatever reason. But it doesn’t happen. He knows he needs to do it himself. After passing the phone for maybe, the 100th time today, he finally stops in front of it.

The piece of paper with her number on it feels like a weight in his pocket, pulling down on him, like it’s going to continue to do so until he pulls back.

He reaches out to start dialling but he stops himself, staring at his outstretched arm hovering close to the keypad.

He can make a phone call. Pfft. Anyone can make one phone call. It’s all good. All chill. Totally, totally _cool._

That’s what Bobby tells himself at least.

He puts his arm back down.

  
  


**

  
  


**Poppy**

_19:48_

This was getting a little ridiculous now.

Turns out sulking on the couch for the past few hours isn’t any different. She figured it was better than letting herself rot in bed, but it clearly isn’t. She feels just as shitty. No amount of TV or films were enough of a distraction. Just as her attention began to focus on the screen, her hands would begin to ring in her lap and her eyes would dart over to the phone on the wall. Ugh.

At least she’s not hungry now. For food, that is.

Poppy’s never been so hung up over one guy. Never has she shied away from single life. Even at her age she knows it suits her better. She’s better built for it. Or, at least she thought she was.

Poppy is used to being on her own. She’s not exactly been around the block, but she’s had her fair share of romantic and sexual (emphasis on the sexual) escapades and each time they’ve never really amounted to anything meaningful. Plus, the combination of a father abandoning you, an almost completely absent mother and spending your formative teenage years in a completely new country is not exactly the best recipe. 

At first there was a sense of loneliness to it. Shameful. Failure. Rejection. Why does no one want me? It felt like there was a label over her head, telling people that she isn’t worth the attention. But, as soon as she hit 16, body parts started to change in ways she didn’t realise they were supposed to. Her tits and ass just popped out of nowhere, like Aphrodite herself had come down from the heavens and granted her a gift.

It was a confusing time, realising that she could get attention with her body more than anything. Though, granted it wasn’t always good attention. But, it was still something. It gave her a new found perspective and a new challenge in life on learning how to trust herself and judgement. And she’s still learning to this day.

It gave her a spark of courage.

But, the loneliness continued, even after giving into the attention and letting it sprout into something more along the physical lines. The flames were oh so hot, but the ashes hurt the most. So very cold.

She’s still learning to appreciate herself more. And appreciate others more. Lonely feelings now transform into a contentment with solitude. 

So now, as she stares at the phone on the wall for maybe the 50th time today, she has _no_ idea what the fuck is going on with her. This desperate need to talk to him is beyond anything she has ever felt before. Just the idea of standing by his side sent her heart into a wonderful, dizzy panic sensation. 

She picks up the phone again.

Then puts it down.

And picks it back up again.

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby**

_19:50_

Still standing in the hallway, Bobby chews his lip, staring at the keypad of the house phone. 

It looks daunting suddenly, reminding him of what’s going to happen if he makes the call. He looks down to his hand, holding the paper Rocco scribbled her number onto. His eyes follow the order of the numbers over and over again, like he’s done a thousand times today. He doesn’t even need the paper anymore, he’s already remembered it.

He picks up the phone and begins to dial.

Adrenaline begins to flood his system, he can feel his fingers shaking against the phone as he continues to dial. It pumps through his system so vigorously, like it’s trying to escape and make the call for him. His body wants to run for the safety of the hills and cower in the corner at the same time. But, he fights it with everything left in his body. He remains where he is.

  
  


**

  
  


**Poppy**

_19:50_

_This is ridiculous,_ Poppy thinks. _Just call him you idiot. You moron, twat, call him! Call him!_

She looks down at her hand, where it’s still stained with ink, Bobby’s phone number slightly bleeding into the miniscule grooves of her skin.

“Ugh,” Poppy groans, massaging her temples, trying to soothe the headache she’s still suffering from. “Fine! _Fine_.” She groans to herself.

Quickly, she starts dialling the number, continuously looking down to her hand, knowing that she doesn’t need to after already memorising it over and over today. The dial tone only rings once before it switches and says that the line is busy.

“Fuck.” She whispers.

Again, it switches, a spritely, scottish female voice begins to talk down Poppy’s ear.

 _«_ _Aye up! You have reached Beth, Terry, Emily and Bobby -_ _»_

Poppy smiles dumbly to herself, so charmed to hear the same accent she’s used to hearing from Bobby only to be coming from what she assumes is his mother. 

_«_ _\- We are unable to come to the phone right now, but please leave a message after the tone. Thanks!_ _»_

Fuck. That smile disappears very quickly. Poppy panics, dread setting in as there is a loud beep.

"Oh, uh, hi - hello…um, this is a message for Bobby… oh, it’s Poppy by the way -"

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby**

_19:51_

The line rings only for a second before it switches to the busy tone. Bobby frowns, completely in the dark that Poppy is trying to call him too. In some ways it’s a bit of a relief. He is such a mess of nerves that he’ll probably just slam the phone down if she actually did pick up. It switches to an automated answering machine. His heart begins to race, as he listens.

 _«_ _Thank you for calling the Andersons. We are unable to take your call right now. Leave a message after the beep._ _»_

 _Fuck, shit, bollocks,_ he thinks. He didn’t even think about having to leave a message. There’s a loud beep before he thinks to put the phone down instead. Bobby starts talking before he can even catch himself.

"Um, hey Poppy! It's, uh - Bobby." He blurts and pauses to bite his lip. "I've been meaning to call you all day actually. I’ve just been so hungover -"

He gently smacks himself on the forehead. _No you haven’t. Just get to the point._

  
  


**

  
  


**Poppy**

_19:51_

"- and... I just wanted to say I had so much at your birthday party last night… it was the most fun I've had in awhile. This whole summer, actually. Ever." She laughs nervously and twirls the phone cord around her finger. "You were so fun to be around. You're... always fun to be around. Even when you kept missing all those easy shots at beer pong!"

She shakes her head at herself, internally cringing. _Really? Ugh. Get it together._

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby**

_19:52_

“That’s a lie, I haven’t been hungover.” He babbles. “I’ve been fine actually. Uh… I just. I don’t know. I don’t know why I haven’t been able to call you.” He says and then winces. “Fuck it, that’s another lie. I’ve been scared to call you, that’s why. I’ve been terrified to call you.”

God, this is a fucking mess. But, the one thing he wished for on his birthday was to be braver. And he’s going to do it, even if it kills him.

“And not only to call you, just... with everything. You terrify me, but, like - in a good way. I’m scared and happy all at once and I don’t know how to deal with it.” He takes a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry about last night. I mean, I just… I’m sorry if I made you feel bad. When you tried to kiss me.” He pauses, his heart beating up into his throat. “Just… I don’t know. Things between… us... have been so weird lately like we ran off the rails, y’know? And now that we're back on them it's even weirder than before. I just want things to be okay again -”

  
  


**

  
  


**Poppy**

_19:52_

“I’m sorry your birthday got ruined by all the random people there and everything. It wasn’t really a birthday party. Um. And I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to give you your gift. And… I’m sorry I threw up… on you.” She laughs, suddenly. “And I’m sorry about the other thing. I was just so… _nervous_ and I’m never nervous. I don’t know why. Well. I do -”

Poppy bounces her leg up and down, biting into her bottom lip, her anxious energy beginning to ramp up. 

"You make me nervous, but it always feels …nice? Like, I don't want to run away from it. I don't know how else to say it. And I'm scared we've kinda, just... ruined it. It's like we're suddenly out of sync and I don't know what to do anymore. I'm scared I'm going to lose the only person around here that really understands me. That gets me for me, y'know -"

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby**

_19:52_

“ - like, everything was so easy. Every time we speak it’s just so _easy._ I never worried about anything in those moments. Never, ever, thought that the conversation would die because I knew it wouldn’t. And you’re, like, the funniest person I’ve ever met. Well. Maybe behind Jonno, but, that’s a compliment in itself. You always make me laugh.”

Bobby can’t help but grin into the phone, her cackle in the back of his mind. God, the way she laughs makes him want to be his better self. The effect she has on him makes him feel crazy. A good crazy, though.

“I don’t know what else to say.” He murmurs. “You just make me happy. And I don’t want to lose that. Or you.” He shakes his head. “Uh - listen, I’ve rambled on for ages but, I just… can you call me back? I just wanna talk to you.” He sighs. “‘Kay. Bye.”

Bobby puts the phone down gently, watching as the handset rests back in place.

  
  


**

  
  


**Poppy**

_19:53_

Poppy frowns, suddenly overwhelmed with everything she has felt over the past few weeks. There is a tightness in her throat, lungs contracting each time she tries to take a breath. Her heart is beating so fast from just the idea of thinking about him. 

_Tell him. Just tell him._

"I just miss you and I want to tell you that I -"

She’s cut off again by a loud beep. An automated voice begins to talk.

 _«_ _To leave your message please hang up. If you would like to re-record please press one. If you would like to re-dial please press two._ _»_

Poppy listens to the crackling of the line, going over the options in her head multiple times. This isn’t how she wants to tell him. 

She presses one.

“Uh, hey, Bobby. It’s Poppy. Can you give me a call back on this number? Thanks.” She says and hangs up the phone.

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby**

_20:15_

Bobby lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling. His door is open, ready and prepared for when the phone goes. _If_ the phone goes. God, he prays that she got his message. Maybe Rocco gave him the wrong number as some kind of sick joke and he’s just left a very personal message on someone random person’s answering machine.

Shit. He sits up. That really does feel like something Rocco would do.

Just as Bobby’s ready to surge out of bed, he hears a faint scuff noise from outside his window. Then a small groan, like someone’s hoisting themselves up. There’s a sigh and then silence. He knows those noises.

Without thinking he leaps out of bed and towards the window, tugging hard on the blinds cord and sending them shooting up and smacking the top of his window _._ He’s met with a startled face. His heart stops. Poppy’s startled face. Her fist is in the air, looking like she was about to knock on his window. The light from the descending sun behind her outlines her in a fiery glow that he’s fallen for so many times. He barely notices her somber expression.

His hands shake as he fiddles with the lock and sends the windows flying up when he finally gets it undone. Both of them stay there, completely frozen and silent. Bobby breaks first.

“What are you doing here?” He sounds elated and terrified all at once.

“I… don’t know.” She shakes her head. “I had to talk to you.”

“Oh.” He steps away from the window and ushers for her to come in.

Poppy steps inside, slowly, like she’s never done this before. She stays by the window, ringing her hands together.

“So…” She starts, trying to force a smile.

“So.” He nods.

“I’m sorry I threw up on you.”

“It’s fine.” Bobby laughs, quietly. “Not the first time I’ve had sick on my shoes this summer, remember?”

Poppy’s smile flashes for a second, her lips curling up at the side.

“Think I owe you a new pair of shoes.” She laughs self-consciously and bites her lip when it comes out a bit too loud.

She goes to open her mouth again but hesitates and closes it. Bobby can read the sudden un-ease washing over her as she crosses her arms and fixes her gaze on the wall to her left, starting a staring competition with his Jimi Hendrix poster. The glow they finally got back is gone again.

“Are you okay?” Bobby asks, trying to catch her eye.

Poppy stays quiet for a moment, looking like she’s about to throw up.

“Yeah.” She nods, not taking her eyes off the poster.

“Oh, okay -”

“Actually, no,” She interrupts and shakes her head, eyebrows furrowing together. “No. No, I’m not.” Her voice is hollow.

“What’s wrong?”

Poppy has no idea how to start, but his question seems to set something off. She looks so miserable, like she did all those weeks ago when they started avoiding each other.

“I’m sorry.” She says simply, finally looking at him.

“For what?” He asks.

“Just… everything. Me. For ruining your relationship.” She exhales. “With Priya.”

“Poppy… you didn’t -”

“I _did_.” She interrupts, a little heated. “I heard you guys arguing last night. And I can’t stand here and say it wasn’t my fault. And neither should you.”

Bobby stares, wide eyed as hers begin to brim with tears. The confident, chill, at ease Poppy is quickly crumbling before his eyes and he has no idea what to do.

“I’m such... a fuck up. I let my own stupid intentions get in the way of you guys. I was so jealous. Insanely jealous that you were spending all this time with her, but I had no right to be feeling that way. We’ve only known each other for what? Like, over a month?”

“You’re not a fuck up.” He says softly, heart aching as her tears reach breaking point and spill over.

“I am. If I didn’t do all those stupid things like kissing you or… sneaking up to your room or just hanging out with you, you wouldn’t feel conflicted with your feelings for Priya. Fuck, I even kissed Priya in that stupid truth or dare game to get a reaction out of you but you just sat there, like a normal human being. Like a good person. What does that say about me?” 

The words trickling out of her mouth become a full blown waterfall, with no sign of stopping. 

“Even when I didn’t want to like you, I liked you _._ God, just - seeing you and her - in the tower… it should've put me off and it didn’t. It was driving me crazy seeing you all cosy with Priya. And then every time we spoke, all I could think about was Priya and how shit it was that I liked you -” She’s cut off with a hiccup and wipes a hand over her eyes, tears trickling down her cheeks and sparkling like a waterfall.

Bobby can barely hear his own thoughts, heat blooming all throughout his body from her words. All his suspicions and doubts are being presented as truth right in front of him.

_She likes me._

“Oh my god -- every moment we have - _had_ \- together I just seem to ruin. I made myself look like an idiot yesterday and basically threw myself at you, like I have no control. I’m… just, I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry I tried to kiss you. I don’t want our friendship to be ruined because I was being stupid. You mean too much now, and it’s scary _-_ ”

“I don’t want to be friends.” He interrupts quickly and shakes his head.

Her dark eyes soften for a second. She blinks at him, letting the tears continue to roll down her cheeks. Her eyes are so wide, he can see the red ring around them.

“What?” She croaks. Her sniffles are loud as she wipes at the tear stains under her eyes. He feels his heart beginning to sing like a church choir, loud and unapologetic. For the first time it isn't out of nerves.

“I... don’t want to be friends.” He repeats.

The room goes impossibly quiet, just the sound of Poppy trying to get rid of her tears and heavy breathing. You could probably hear a pin drop.

“You… don’t?” She asks, not catching on.

He doesn’t know what else to say. Bobby steps closer, tentatively reaching out and sliding his hands up her arms, until he’s softly cupping her jaw in his hands. God, he couldn’t give a fuck about anything else right now. She likes him. He needs to kiss her.

“Do you want to be friends?” He asks, softly.

The realisation sweeps her up quickly. Her eyes rake all over his face, trying to convince herself she’s just staring at his freckles and not his mouth before holding his gaze. She stays silent, mouth parted but unable to come up with the answer. Both their breaths are shaking as Poppy inches forward and tilts her head, grazing his lips with her own. It’s so light it’s barely a touch. An invitation.

The only answer Bobby needs.

He closes the gap.

She’s that summer storm, pulling him in all over again.

The feeling of relief as her lips crash into his makes him want to sob. He forces himself to taste her, slowly. He is aching, savouring every drop of her that spills out. The salt from her tears tingles on their lips, slipping away as they begin to fall deeper into it. Shy at first, she rests her hands on his back, fingers slowly digging into the fabric of his shirt. 

His own eyes ache with unshed tears, feeling her gasp and continue to cry into the kiss, overwhelmed with this new feeling. Bobby carefully skims her cheeks with his thumbs, wiping away the remaining drizzle of tears. Her hands glide up, goosebumps rising to the surface of her trail before she pulls him closer. 

They both sink into it, sighing from the contact of their bodies sealing up against each other. Wild flutters surge through both of them as their lips part in unison. It’s as if they’re one. Her mind is far from anything, narrowed down to him and him only. A rush of helplessness makes her feel limp in his arms, falling into this feeling that she’s wanted for so long. It’s dizzying, making the whole world sway. But, she knows if she falls he'll catch her.

Bobby pulls back first, afraid he’s pushed himself. The feeling of her pressed up against him is overwhelming.

He watches her eyelashes as her eyes blink open, clouded with confusion. They’re still brimming with tears, wobbling as they almost spill over. She skims her hands on the side of his cheeks, staring straight into his clear hazel eyes looking like she could so easily burst into tears again.

"I don't want to be friends." She shakes her head.

He laughs softly, catching her tears with his finger.

“We’re both daft, aren’t we?” She smiles, trying to blink the rest away.

“Idiots.” Bobby grins, only making her smile widen.

Without a second thought, she moves towards him and kisses him again. They’re both undeniably greedy for more, like the first time wasn’t enough. More, more, _more_. Her hands find his hair, tightening into his locs and making him groan into her mouth. Never has he felt so good. He’s never kissed like this. She sucks on his tongue, soft yet urgent. She pulls back to graze and nip at his lower lip with her teeth, easing the sting with her tongue. Her name trails off his tongue in the form of a moan, electrifying every fibre in her body.

Bobby gasps as she arches her hips into his and has to pull away again before he completely loses it. He keeps his hands cupped around her jaw, kissing her again and again until the flames fizzle into a warm glow. It’s sweet. 

She twines her arms around his neck and buries her face against his chest as he wraps his around her body, holding her close. They stay there for a moment, basking in the silence of the room, both dizzy from kissing. 

“You taste like toothpaste.” He murmurs, the first coherent thought that he can come up with.

Poppy snorts into his chest, making him smile so wide to himself. She pulls away and looks up at him, her smile just as dreamy. Poppy keeps looking up at him, her face going red under his stare and turning sheepish. Bobby cocks his head at her, a realisation slowly dawning on him.

“Oh my god,” He blinks. “Did you brush your teeth before coming here?”

“What? No!” She stutters, her cheeks going a beautiful berry red that Bobby just wants to snack on.

“Oh my god.” He laughs. “You brushed your teeth.”

“No, I didn’t - well, I did but -”

“So, you did!”

“Because I’m _still_ hungover and my mouth tasted like day old ass.” She hits his chest and makes a move to leave his arms but he tightens them around her. 

“You were planning to kiss me.” He grins.

Poppy’s face continues to flush. “No, I wasn’t!” She tries to laugh it off.

“Yes you were!” Christ, he can’t stop grinning. "Penelope, did you really climb up to my window with the intention to kiss me? You romantic."

“It would've been romantic hadn't you kissed me first, Robert.”

“But, you had the _intention_ of kissing me first. And, I did not kiss you first. You leaned in first.”

“And you closed the gap.” She laughs even harder.

“The gap means nothing.” He frowns.

“Then why do you care so much?” She raises an eyebrow.

Fuck it. He dips down and kisses her again, her sweet full laugh dying between their lips. It makes his heart run in circles, overflowing with this new found bliss. Even with her tear stained lips, she is the sweetest thing he has ever tasted.

"I think our sober kisses are better." She mumbles against him.

"Much." He laughs. 

“I didn’t think you’d be a good kisser.” She whispers as she pulls away.

“Don’t worry, there’s still time for me to disappoint.” Bobby smiles.

Poppy’s full laugh fills the room, short and loud. God, it’s the best thing. He steps away and ushers for her to sit on the bed as he rushes out of the room. He returns a few seconds later with a toilet roll in hand and a grin plastered on his face. Poppy just shakes her head as he sits next to her and passes the roll over.

"Are you okay?" He asks, resting a hand on her knee.

"I'm fine. I think." She laughs as she wipes away the remaining tears and obnoxiously blows her nose. "Just emotional." When she turns to look at him her face is all blotchy and her eyes are puffy and red.

“Mm. And you’re hot, too." Bobby muses, giving her an up-down look.

“Fuck off.” She drops her snot sodden tissue in his lap, making him yelp and throw it to the floor. “You’re such a div.”

“I am.” He smiles. “But, you like it.”

“I do.” Her eyes widen and she shakes her head in faux bemusement. “God, forgive me. What have I done?”

“Made a huge mistake.”

“ _Massive_ mistake.” She teases. “What are we gonna do?” 

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. 

But, he did. More than anything he wants them to fall deeper and deeper into this new feeling he’s currently on the verge of drowning in.

“Could snog again?” She asks, biting her lip.

God, yes. That too. He'd really like that too.

Bobby doesn’t even say anything, making her laugh even more when he moves towards her, sliding his fingers into her hair. Just as their lips touch there is a muffled sound of the front door opening and closing. Bobby groans, listening to the noise emit from downstairs, shoes against the wooden floor and keys jingling before being put on the side.

Poppy gives him a sorry smile as she pulls away. “I should probably go.” She laughs against his mouth.

Ugh. She’s right. She’s always right. But, that doesn’t stop Bobby from pouting and theatrically rolling his eyes at her.

“ _Fine._ ” He groans again. “I suppose.”

“I can’t have your mum coming in here and seeing me ravish her son. Especially on a school night.” She jokes.

Bobby’s eyebrows shoot up. He knows she's only teasing but, please, god yes, let there be ravishing. He tugs on her hand just as she’s about to stand up, keeping her in place.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, swiping a thumb under her eye.

“Yes.” She nods and smiles. “Very okay.”

She reaches over, drawing a line with her finger over the little dip in his chin before gently gripping it in her hand and giving it a squeeze. She laughs, grinning as his bum chin becomes prominent in her hand, just like she did last time. He does the same to her, fingers ever so gentle as he squeezes her chin too.

“We should talk more tomorrow.” He utters, keeping his eyes trained on her chin.

“Mm. Yeah.” She hums, swiping her thumb over his chin delicately again. He goes brainless, head in a flurry. “Definitely.” She whispers.

She kisses him again, gently this time, continuing to make a melting mess of his brain. Her cushiony lips are feathery soft and he will never get enough. It’s almost painful when she pulls away and gets up. He watches as she walks over to his open window, feeling giddy, petrified and overwhelmed all at once. God, this girl. She climbs out and turns to face him, crouching down.

“See you tomorrow.” She flashes him the cheerleader smile that’s had no problem turning him into a melt.

Bobby doesn’t get a chance to answer before she shoots off. He listens to her slide down the guttering of his house, her shoes landing with a bang on the roof of the neighbours shed before she jumps down to the street. It’s all too familiar, the squeak of her sneakers makes his heart swell.

He rushes over to the window, catching a glimpse of her before she disappears down the street. It’s only for a few seconds but there’s a bounce in her step that he prays he put there. She shines so bright under the haze of the sunset, like she’s a ray of light herself. They often show every flaw. Every nook and cranny. Yet with her, she shines so bright she brings out the best. It blinds him in the best way. 

He savours the sight of her glow, watching the sun fully set until it finally says goodbye and disappears, letting it fill him up until he can feel warmth all the way down to his toes and fingertips.

For once, he can’t wait to wake up to the sound of his alarm tomorrow.

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL!!! WE DID IT!! 🍾🍾🍾 (only took around 140k words! lmao)
> 
> first, i would like to dedicate this chapter to the wonderful ao3 user y2kjoons! dude, i looked back at some previous comments and you have been here literally since the beginning, which was way back in december!! every single comment has meant so much. you are literally summerbird's personal cheerleader and i can't thank you enough for your wonderful support. so - yes!! this chapter is for you bc you're amazing (and for that time you thought they kissed, so here's the real kiss lmao)
> 
> *sigh* finallyyyyy. so SO excited for what is to come 🔥
> 
> if you are not already, come and join myself and other litg ff writers & artists on the r/LITGFanFiction subreddit!! it's dedicated to all things creative, brainstorming and general ff discussion!
> 
> kudos, comments, shouting at me on twitter @l0singface or tumblr @losingface is always highly appreciated! sometimes i draw things and post them.
> 
> and, most importantly, THANK U FOR READING!!! 💖


	22. Sunshine, We Don't Belong Here

**

  
  


The sun is low. The birds in the trees sing a happy melody. Red and yellow dance together in the sky, melding into one. 

Poppy walks home, trying her best to downplay her smile. She fails miserably, daydreaming of drawn out kisses and a particular freckled face to share them with.

Quickly, she makes her way up the steps to her home, keys tinkling a tinny tune her hands. The setting sun paints a warm, orange glow on the front door, mirroring the warmth she’s feeling in her chest. All she wants to do is go to bed, desperate for the morning to be here already. A fresh mind with a fresh face will be the perfect start to tomorrow. She can’t wait. 

But, the comforting heat in her chest quickly comes to an end as she sees that there’s a light switched on inside. She doesn’t remember leaving one on. Slowly, she opens the door, walks through the house and stops as she reaches the end of the hallway.

“Hey," Poppy’s mother murmurs from her place on the couch. She doesn’t look up from the stack of mail she’s rifling through. “You been out?”

Unaware, Poppy breaks out in a smile. “Yeah, I -”

“To see a boy?” Her mother interrupts.

“Uh,” Poppy arches an eyebrow, a little confused. “Yeah. Yes. How'd you know?"

“Someone named Bobby left a voicemail for you.”

“Oh!” Poppy grins again, walking towards the phone. “What did it -”

“I deleted it.”

That glow she’s been floating on the past hour goes icey cold, growing into icicles and piercing her chest. She whips around to look at her mother, who still hasn’t even lifted her gaze from infront of her. Poppy’s so baffled she doesn’t say anything for a few painful seconds. 

“You what?” Poppy asks, lump in her throat.

“I deleted it.” Finally, her mum looks up at her, pushing her glasses up in her hair. “You need to stop chasing boys, Penelope. It’s getting old. We can’t keep doing this again.”

“What the actual fuck?” Poppy says the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m not chasing boys -”

“Please, don’t swear.”

“Why did you delete the message?”

“Poppy -”

“What did it say?”

“Oh, it was a load of nonsense.” Her mother shakes her head.

“You had no right to delete that message.”

“I have every right -”

“You don’t have the right, it's _my_ message!” Poppy scowls and snaps. “You don’t even live here anymore!”

“But, I pay for it, don’t I.” She shakes her head. “C’mon. Poppy this is ridiculous.”

“It’s _not_ ridiculous.”

“There’s no need to get upset over some guy.” Her mother continues. “You have much better things to focus on -”

“He’s not just some guy. This isn’t… this isn’t like the others. I like him.” She states, firmly. “A lot.”

“And how many times have I heard that?” Her mother asks, tone pointed.

Poppy’s fists bunch by her sides, gritting her teeth together behind the straight line of her lips. She’s always learnt to bite her tongue with her mother. It was a fight she never won and honestly she didn’t care anymore. She carries herself through to the back of the house, failing to not let her bedroom door slam shut. It’s so pathetically petty but she couldn’t care less.

The darkness of her room envelopes her and she continues to let it sink in, unable to face anything. She stands staring into the inky black, her hands shaking by her sides, she is so angry. If she can’t see anything, then she can’t feel anything. And if she can’t feel anything, she can’t be angry. But, it doesn’t subside like she had hoped. Going from the high of finally telling Bobby how she feels to this feels like a kick to the teeth.

She blindly walks over to her bed, letting her legs hit the edge and collapses into it, burying her head into the pillows. The short annoyed yell that rips out of her is just muffled enough to not travel too far. 

Sleep can not come fast enough.

  
  


**

  
  


Bobby leaps out of bed at the sound of his alarm. He brushes his teeth, showers and gets dressed in record time. He’s barrelling down the stairs, his bag flailing on his shoulder, as his sister emerges from the kitchen, yawning and stretching as she cradles a cup of coffee in one hand.

“Hey,” She mumbles, watching him put his trainers on by the door. “Why’re you up so early?”

“Things to do, places to be, people to see!” He sing-songs.

She doesn’t have time to respond as he straightens up and places a sweet kiss on the crown of her head before heading out the door. Emily watches it slam closed, the hooks adjacent on the wall shaking. Strange.

The sun is blistering hot and annoyingly bright today, Bobby can already feel the heap of new freckles he’s about to be gifted. The majority of the group are already out on the sand and waiting by the time Bobby arrives at the beach. He keeps walking, trying to keep his smile down as he catches sight of Poppy talking with Lottie and Hope by the tower. The morning sunlight bounces off her bronze skin, recently applied sun lotion on her arms shimmering. 

She’s anxiously biting at her thumb, like he’s seen her do a couple times now. The uneasiness on her face washes away as soon as she looks over, doing a subtle double take when she spots it’s him walking over to the group. Her hand leaves her mouth and her back straightens, flourishing like the beauty she is. He can’t keep the smile off his face as she fights the one spreading out on hers.

Somehow his steps feel lighter, but his chest feels heavy with a sudden dread. Does anyone know? Is that what she’s talking to the girls about? Bobby is not too far away, ready to go make small talk with the girls, when a strong arm shoots out and wraps around his neck, pulling him to the side.

_“Bobby!”_

_“There he is!”_

_“Atta boy, atta boy!”_

Quickly, he’s pulled into a tight circle with Gary, Lucas, Rocco and Henrik. Gary ruffles his hair before letting him out of the headlock. When Bobby stands up straight, he’s greeted with a bunch of beaming grins. Well, from everyone except for Rocco. His face is set like stone, looking very un-zeb like he normally is. 

“That grin says it all.” Lucas nods, giving Bobby a wink.

Bobby’s face falls, not catching on.

“What?” He asks.

“Did you seal the deal?” Gary asks, nudging him with his elbow and nodding over to the group of girls talking in their own tight circle. 

Bobby blinks, glancing over to the girls. Poppy’s gone back to biting at her thumb, her eyes locked with Hope. Lottie is looking back at Bobby with her own intriguing stare before she turns back with a frown. Bobby does too, finally understanding what's going on.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tries.

“Oh, please,” Gary scowls and makes a _pffbt_ sound. “She was practically climbing you during your birthday party.”

“No she wasn’t.” He defends.

“Like a tree.” Henrik adds.

“Nothing happened.” He crosses his arms, eyebrows knotting together. “We just,” He shrugs. “We’re very... close.”

Rocco doesn’t look convinced, starting right at Bobby with a stink face on. Bobby doesn’t dare look over at him, keeping his gaze trained on Gary’s shoulder.

“Oh, I _bet_ you’re close.” Gary laughs to himself.

“Seriously, nothing?” Henrik questions. “You guys were together the whole time.”

“Just because we were together doesn’t mean we did anything.” Bobby frowns.

“You swear?” Henrik raises his eyebrows at him.

Bobby gives them an assuring nod. “Swear.” He says.

“Damn it.” Lucas sighs, defeated. He takes a £20 note out of his pocket and hands it to grinning Gary. 

Unbelievable. Bobby tries not to roll his eyes.

He loses interest in the conversation pretty quickly as Lucas and Gary start to bicker, with Henrik’s laugh tinkling in between. Rocco is just as uninterested, his gaze flicking over to Poppy, who now has her back to them. 

Bobby catches Rocco’s dark stare crawling from her feet all the way up to her back, exposed except for the criss-cross straps of her swimsuit. It sits high on her hips today, just barely covering the round curve of her butt. Rocco’s unashamed gaze roams all over her like a lion to prey. The jealousy that shoots through Bobby is white hot and blinding, taking unbelievable strength to not go walk over to her and wrap an arm around her waist.

Fuck, he hates being jealous. But, there is a deep rooted selfish part of him that feels smug, knowing Rocco's eyeing up something he can't have. Something that Bobby has.

Rocco looks back to the guys, finally meeting Bobby’s eyes for the first time with a hard glare. Then he cocks his head. It feels like a challenge. 

Luckily, Caroline saves this going on anything further. The sharp sound of the whistle slices through the warm morning air, making them all snap to attention. Bobby swears the day that Stirling pops up again, he will literally run into his arms. 

  
  


**

  
  


“Aqua.”

“I’d say… more of a teal.”

“Really? What about baby blue?”

“Everyone says baby blue when they describe eyes. Like, _what does that mean?_ What baby is blue?”

“It’s like the blue used for baby boys.”

“That’s so dumb.” Noah says.

“Is it?” Bobby laughs.

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Chelsea interrupts, her eyes huge and not blinking as she keeps them open for display. “I think my eyes are going dry.”

“You can still blink, Chels.” Bobby adds, laughing even more as she starts to rapidly do so.

Ah. The end of the day is a godsend.

It’s been tortuous to say the least. Stolen glances and private smiles from Poppy were the only thing keeping him going, knowing that they won’t be able to say a decent word to each other until the end of the day. Her brown eyes sparkled in the sun, as tempting and delectable as any sweet treat you can think of. 

He caught himself gravitating towards her. And when he wasn’t, she was. His heart skipped, knowing she wanted to be close as much as he did. It’s a feeling he still doesn’t fully understand but keeps almost giving in to everytime he looks at her. If he could bottle it up and carry it around he would.

With a huge blue slushie between them, Bobby, Chelsea and Noah sit outside the shop, chatting about anything and everything, like they’ve done countless times now. The current subject being Chelsea’s striking eye colour, much like the slushie she’s loudly slurping on. It feels like old times, which is scary to even think about considering they’ve only been here a little over a month. 

“I like my eyes.” Chelsea smiles with a bubbly confidence only she exhibits, passing the drink over to Bobby. “They, like, really _pop_ y’know.”

Her words make Bobby smile. Chelsea is always so blissfully happy in herself, it makes Bobby feel that much more comfortable in himself too when he’s around her. He takes the drink from her and says his thanks, sucking down more of that sugary crushed ice he so badly needs. Though, he’s pretty sure that this sweetness isn’t going to satisfy.

Desperately, he’s trying not to be obvious, but down the beach in front of them, Lottie, Marisol and Poppy are heading to the water with their boards tucked under their arms. He figures Lottie’s just quipped a joke, hearing Poppy’s laugh over the crashing waves. 

They become just about distinguishable figures the closer they get to the water. It shouldn’t have an effect on Bobby, he can barely see Poppy’s figure but, his pulse is racing just the same as when they’re face to face. He only lets his eyes skim over them for a minute, wishing he could hear what they’re talking about.

“ _Pop_.” Noah repeats Chelsea, testing the word on his lips. It’s loud enough to bring Bobby’s attention back. Noah presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth and executes a flawlessly loud tongue-pop. It’s sharp and cuts through the air like a hot knife does butter.

_Pop!_

Chelsea laughs and copies him, adding in a little dramatic nod which makes her hair jostle.

 _Pop!_ She does it again, giggling. _Pop!_

They stay rooted in their familiar spot until the sun starts to descend and the cooling air drives out the tourists from the beach, in search of their watering hole for the evening. They watch as Gary and Ibrahim split off in different directions after embracing in a very firm, very male-esque bro hug. Chelsea sits up a little bit straighter.

“Uh -” She draws it out, looking around. “I think I’m gonna go home.”

“What?” Noah frowns, pulling away from the slushie he’s trying to get the last dregs from.

“I’m just tired.” She says and then proceeds to stretch her arms and pull off a very exaggerated yawn. “Yeah. Whew. _So_ tired.” She shakes her head and jumps up. “See you guys tomorrow!” She chirps before making her way down the street. 

Bobby and Noah exchange a look after watching her vanish around the corner. Naturally, Bobby’s attention wanders over to the girls surfing. He sniggers to himself as Lottie’s attempt at taking on a barrel fails. She goes flying off her board and backwards into the water. Noah’s pointed but nervous cough brings him back.

“Hey, uh -” Noah looks over to Bobby. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can.” Bobby shuffles so he’s facing him and gives him his full attention. “You alright?”

Noah nods and smiles. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He pauses. “Uh, I wanted to talk to you about… um, Priya, actually.”

Oh. Bobby blinks and stares at him. He wasn’t expecting that to come out of his mouth at all. Priya? Seriously?

“Oh.” Bobby nods. “What about Priya?”

“I saw her at your birthday party. I didn’t even realise she was there until I found her.” He says, carefully thinking about his next words. “I think you need to have a talk with her.”

Okay, he was not expecting _that_ either. Especially not from Noah. Bobby tries not to let his discomfort show on his face, but it obviously doesn’t work as Noah gives him a skeptical look. Technically, Bobby has spoken to her. He argued with her, not even able to get a word in before Priya stormed off like an angry titan heading for Mount Olympus. He’s on the verge of telling Noah that he did talk to Priya but bites his tongue instead.

“Okay…” He trails off. “Why?”

“I spoke to her and she -” Noah rubs his hands together. “She’s really upset, like, a mess. I didn’t know you guys had broken up until she told me.”

“Oh, right.” Bobby exhales, crossing his arms. The air is abruptly filled with a rude chill and it’s not from the ocean breeze.

“This is all off my own back, dude.” Noah says. “She just felt like the break-up came out of nowhere and... I don’t know. I’m not insinuating that you owe her an explanation or anything, like, it’s your relationship. But, maybe it’ll help if you guys just hash things out?”

_Where the hell is all this coming from?_

Bobby nods, giving him a tight smile. “Okay. Yeah, thanks. I will.” 

“I don’t think she’s mad at you.” Noah adds.

Ha. God, if only he heard.

“She probably is.” Bobby says. “She has every right to be. I mean, I did break-up with her.”

Noah laughs, trying to keep it light. But, the mood falls flat. This is so strange. Never has he felt awkward around Noah. They look down to the concrete beneath their feet, as dry as their conversation.

“Uh -” Noah starts, grabbing Bobby’s attention. “I’m gonna head off.” 

“Oh, okay.” Bobby nods. “Do you not wanna finish the slush?” He points.

“Nah, I’m, uh - I’m done.” Noah hands it over and Bobby takes it.

Without a goodbye, Noah stands up and leaves. Bobby tries not to think about it. In some ways he knows Noah is right and that he does have to talk to Priya. He can’t just let it end with angry words and tears, he’s already seen that enough in his childhood. And he knows for sure it doesn’t solve anything.

He distracts himself by watching the remains of the beach-goers leave, waiting for the sky to become starlit and the silvery moon to say it’s hello. The shadows grow and grow and grow, leaving purple streaks behind them. From the parked cars on the strip comes laughter and music as radios are turned up high before they screech away. The cool evening washes over him, goosebumps rippling up his arms.

He waits until Lottie and Marisol are far and clear from the beach, keeping his focus on Poppy sitting up on the decking of the lifeguard tower on her lonesome. As soon as the coast is clear, he makes his way down to the beach. 

It takes everything in him to not break out into a run when she recognises him instantly from a distance, sitting up a little straighter. He’s just about thrumming as he makes his way up the ramp and is met with her smile.

“Hey.” He sighs happily, taking a seat next to her.

“Hey yourself,” She grins, her hands in a tight grip as she rings the salt water out of her hair.

“How’s surfing?”

“Was good.” She nods, raking her fingers through her wavy curls and shaking them loose. She ties them into a bun and her hands fall into her lap with a heavy sigh attached. “How are Chelsea and Noah?”

“Oh. Y’know,” He shrugs, not sure what to say. 

They were fine and then suddenly not. Chelsea scrambled away like she couldn’t control her legs. And, then Noah got all squirming and nervous as he brought up Priya, making Bobby all squirming and nervous himself. So weird.

“Same old.” He continues. “Talked about Chelsea’s eyes.

“Chelsea’s eyes?” Poppy gives him an amused look.

“Yeah, how they _pop_.” He widens his own and wiggles his fingers by his face.

She laughs. “You have very pop-y eyes, too.” When she hears how that sounds it cracks her up more. “They’re like _there_.”

Poppy throws up some over the top jazz hands. God, it really isn’t fair that she’s drop-dead gorgeous but stupidly dorky, too. 

Bobby blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah, but they’re not like a Chelsea-pop. You hide yours.” Her smile is so genuine. “But, you shouldn’t, they’re pretty.”

Bobby’s brain has no idea which way to spin, flattered that she has noticed his apparently pop-y eyes and even more so that she’s said it out loud to him. Either way it sends his stomach in happy flips. His mouth opens and closes, making her laugh.

“You… going home anytime soon?” is what he ends up asking, no idea how to take the compliment.

“Mm.” Poppy’s good mood flies away and she looks down to the sand. “No. Not home.”

“Oh. Where?”

Poppy shrugs. “I dunno. Anywhere.”

“Oh, yeah?” He laughs, quietly. “You running away?”

She laughs too. Some of her smile is back. “Yeah, you wanna come?”

 _Yes,_ he thinks without hesitation. _In a heartbeat._ She stiffens at her words, aware of how it sounded. The flush creeping up her neck is too noticeable as she moves onto another question.

“Um. Can I ask you something?” Her gaze flits over to the ocean and back to his face.

“Of course you can.” He slides up next to her.

Their arms press up together, sharing the warmth of their sun-kissed skin. They savour the moment for a minute, watching the shadows of the palm trees dance against the concrete and sand, leaves flickering like a dying candle.

Poppy takes a breath and begins talking again. “Have you noticed that people are being… weird?”

“Weird?” Yes, he has. But he asks anyway.

“Like, asking questions.” She hesitates. “About us.”

“Oh, yeah -”

“You haven’t told anyone have y-”

“No, god, no.” He shakes his head. “The guys kept pressing me about the party. But, I said nothing happened.” 

Technically nothing did happen at the party. Just the wee drunken kiss, which he assumes Poppy wouldn't want anyone ever knowing about. But, the real happenings happened after. Poppy sighs again, looking down at her hands ringing together.

Silently, he reaches over, softly breaking her hands apart and replacing it with one of his. Their fingers touch gently and she spreads them out against his, so they make a little steeple. They stay there for a few seconds, studying their hands together. Even in the evening light, their brown skin radiates, undertones coming to the surface. He’s a little redder where she’s yellow. Rust against gold. He catches the little smile she has on her face as he slots their fingers together.

“I promise I haven’t said anything.” He reassures and strokes over her knuckles with his thumb. “Though I'd love to show you off," _And rub it all in Rocco's stupid smug face._ "I just wanna keep you all to myself.” He says, keeping his voice low.

“Me too.” She meets his cheeky smile and it makes his insides start to burn.

Irresistible isn’t even the right word. He shuffles closer and places a kiss on her bare shoulder, tasting the salt on her skin from being under the sun and in the ocean. It makes a loud squeaky-pop sound. She laughs and grins at him, shaking her head. He will never get enough of that sweet noise. 

Desperate to hear more, he does it again and continues to trail them up her neck and cheek. He figures it’s fine as they’re the last ones on the beach, hidden in the tower. The last of her worries wash away, Bobby’s playfulness soothing her like ice to a burn.

“Bobby!” She shoves at his chest but he pulls her closer, grinning and peppering the side of her face with over enthusiastic kisses. “ _Stop it_ -”

She doesn’t really mean it, more than happy that he doesn’t and overwhelmed from his outward affection. He plants the last one dangerously close to the side of her mouth. Their noses bump as she turns to face him fully, both of them going cross-eyed and smiling like crazy as she wastes no time leaning in to kiss him properly.

All day he's been dying for this, aching to know what her lips feel like again. Everything slows. The soft white noise of the ocean fades behind the rush in his ears. She tastes like a summer day. Like sea water and pineapple. Like the sweet smokey flames from a nearby backyard barbeque. Like refined sunshine. Pure perfect.

Her hands slide up to cup his face as she draws it out, wanting as much of him as she can get. She strokes the soft skin by his ears with her thumbs, making him shiver and sigh. It goes on and on, losing himself in the soft push and pull of their lips. Warmness swells inside of him, so wild he can feel it spreading through his chest. But, it quickly disperses as soon as she pulls away. She presses her forehead against his, resting a hand on his chest. His heart beats wildly under her palm.

"I've wanted to kiss you all day." She whispers.

"Me too." He murmurs, tucking the curls running away from her bun behind her ears. "Where did you learn to kiss like that?" He sits back, to look at her properly.

Her laugh is sudden. "I was wondering the same thing, but I think I already know." She teases, making his cheeks go a rosey pink.

They sit in a short silence. He nods at her, promoting her to keep talking and answer his question.

"You don't wanna hear that stuff," She waves a hand.

"Sure I do." He frowns. "S'why I asked."

"I know, just…" She looks past his shoulder and exhales. "I dunno if you'll like the answer."

"I don't care." He shrugs.

The ocean breeze whips past them again, sudden like the unease beginning to make a come back to Poppy’s face. It dislodges one of the curls sitting behind her ear and whips in front of her face, clinging onto her eyelashes. Naturally, Bobby reaches out and beats her to putting it back in place.

"It's stupid.” She says, her gaze stuck on her hands in her lap.

“I like stupid.” Bobby says.

Poppy smiles over at him and takes a breath. “It’s just… it was lots of parties and lots of drinking. Being around the wrong people, especially around this time when all the summerbirds arrived." She speaks slowly, trying to stay calm and coherent. "I was naive and, I dunno, had to prove myself? I guess? I know people don’t believe it, but no girl wants to come off as frigid." She frowns. 

Frigid. He can see how much she dislikes the word, a crease between her eyebrows. He has a dislike for it too. Even more so ever since Rocco used it about her.

"I've not exactly… been _around_ , but… I have." She laughs nervously, looking away from him. "It wasn't good. Especially last summer." She pauses before speaking a lot quieter than before. "Basically how I met Rocco." 

"Oh." He breathes out. The only thing he can seem to focus on is the mention of Rocco. "Did you not meet him through the lifeguard programme?"

She shakes her head. "No. He seemed to take a shine to it when he realised he could see me everyday."

That stings him. Jealously? Anger? Or the fact that he basically did the same thing?

"Um," Bobby laughs, nervously. "He's not the only one."

"Hah! Yeah, I kinda figured."

"You did?!"

"Yeah." Her laugh is loud and defiant. "One day I see you on the pier with Gary and Rahim creeping and the next you're suddenly signed up for the programme. And _then_ you pretended to know me to ward off Gary's scent. Hilarious."

"Is that why you played along?" He's baffled.

"Yeah, it was funny. And kinda cute."

"Cute? You thought I was cute? Not creepy?"

" _It._ I thought _it_ was cute."

"But, did you?"

"That's not important."

"I'll take it." He grins.

"Such a moron." She laughs, resisting to punch his arm.

Again, the wind rushes past them, a harsh reminder that the evening is here and much chillier than usual. The sun has disappeared behind the horizon, light in the air dimming down. Poppy has that look on her face again, a worried crease between her brows and her own glow diminishing.

He reaches over, swiping his thumb over her chin and giving it a reassuring squeeze. She does the same, drawing a line down his before she squeezes back. It feels so weird being out in the open with her, touching and sharing a moment that could so easily be ruined if they were caught.

“What are you gonna do now?” He questions.

"I don't know.” She shakes her head, with a half-assed smile. “I don’t want to go home, that’s for sure."

“Come home with me.” He offers.

“What?”

"Not like that, like, not anything -- not that I would assume that -" He groans and drags a hand down his face. Poppy smiles watching him flounder. "Like, if you don't wanna go home… you can come to mine."

"Are... you sure?" She asks.

"Well, I'm not just gonna leave you out here on your tod, am I?" He playfully rolls his eyes. "What kind of gentleman would I be, eh?"

"How gracious of you." She smiles.

He gives her hand a quick squeeze before standing up. She makes a disgruntled noise but doesn’t argue, getting to her feet too. They take their time walking back to his, mindlessly chatting with the star speckled sky behind them like the perfect film backdrop. It's quiet and serene, making his thoughts sound ten times as louder. All about her. She hooks their pinkies together after their hands bump in the dark.

Just as they approach the path to his house, Poppy stops in her stride, pulling him back too.

“Um,” She shakes their hands out of their grip. “I’m gonna climb the window.”

“What?” He frowns. “You can come through the door -"

“Would your family be okay with that?"

Damn, he didn't think about that. He sighs. God, she really is always right.

"I'll meet you by the window." He nods and walks up to the house as she takes the path around to the back.

The familiar sounds of his mother pottering about the kitchen hit his ears as soon as he’s through the door. As quietly as he can he closes the door, but is betrayed by a click of the latch. He hears his mother drop whatever she is doing. Damn it.

“Bobby?” Her voice calls.

“Hey, ma!” He calls back, but makes his way to the stairs.

Beth’s head pops out the doorway, face falling into a frown to see him halfway up the steps. She offers dinner but he stumbles through some off the cuff excuse of not feeling hungry. He stretches his back and says he’s heading to bed. He can see her mother senses tingling in the back of her head, but she goes along with it and wishes him a goodnight.

Poppy’s perched up on the roof by the time he opens his window. The first peak of the moon behind the clouds outlines her in a blinding silver, complimenting the glow she already carries on her own.

They chatter for over an hour or so. Just like himself, she takes an interest in his music collection. She’s rifled through it before but this time it feels more… personal. Like, she's really taking her time to know him. She’s in the middle of teasing him for not owning any Chaka Khan when she is unable to resist a yawn and stretches her back.

“Tired?” He teases too.

She nods and smiles, suddenly too exhausted to make a comeback. Immediately both their eyes travel over to his bed in the corner of the room. 

Ah. He did not think about _that._

“Um,” He shoots up and walks over to his wardrobe. He starts pulling out duvets and pillows that aren’t used in the summer, as they’re a little bit denser. “You can have the bed.” He says as he starts laying out the blankets on the floor for himself.

Poppy goes to protest but he shushes her, shaking his head. She laughs and tries again but he starts making random sounds to drown her out and sticks his fingers in her ears. She has to slap a hand over her mouth to stop her full laugh, shoulders shaking from the force of it. He pulls out one of his shirts and pyjama bottoms from his dresser and hands them over to her.

When she returns from the bathroom, his clothes hanging off of her, Bobby has to stop his knees giving out. Though, he’s very close to falling into a laughing heap on the floor when she pulls her hair out of her bun, and it poofs up into a ball of frizzy curls. She laughs too and flips him off.

Just as he turns to leave to get changed in the bathroom himself, Poppy makes an urgent sound. He spins around and raises an eyebrow in question.

“You’ve got a sister right?” She asks, worrything her bottom lips in her teeth

“Yep.” He nods, though wary of where this is going. 

“Uh. If she has any, like, hair products, could you go grab ‘em?”

“Hair products?” He snorts.

“Yeah, dummy, for my hair.” She points to her head. “I’m a frizz ball.”

“You look like a lion.” He leans over to kiss her quick on the head.

“A lion that will get her claws out if you don’t get hair products.” She bares her teeth and makes a little grumble in the back of her throat. 

He laughs. God, she’s so dorky. But, a lion she is. If anything, Rocco wasn’t looking at prey this morning, but a beautiful, powerful soul he had no hope in taming. Bobby’s up for the challenge.

“Okay. One sec.” He dashes out the room, making sure to close the door quickly behind him.

Hair products. Okay. Quietly, he walks to Emily’s closed door, giving it three sharp knocks. No answer. He opens the door and to his relief she’s not in. He flounders around the room, eyes scanning all over her dresser and vanity, reading endless amounts of labels. Conditioning. Moisturising. Nourishing. Sounds good.

He holds out the hem of his shirt, loading it up like a basket. Just before he leaves he grabs a wide tooth comb, too. Poppy has to mute her laugh as he returns and pulls his shirt taut, letting everything fall onto the bed beside her.

By the time he changes into his pyjamas and returns from the bathroom, Poppy is sitting crossed legged on the bed, watching her movements in the mirror above his dresser and plaiting her hair. The room smells like coconut and shea butter, reminding him of the countless times his father helped him and his sister with their unruly locs.

She turns to smile at him as he enters the room and he smiles back, filled with some kind of wild emotion. Just seeing her in the simplest of ways makes his heart run.

It's conflicting in a sense, only days ago he was trying to push down these feelings. Trying to not think about her in such lovely ways, confused whether there was a mutual connection. And now, after finally finding out, it's like a gate has opened. Affectionate thoughts are flooding out, big and gushing. Too powerful for him to handle. It's filling him up and threatening to spill out into words. 

He settles down in the makeshift cot he's made on the floor and watches as she neatly finishes off the last of her plaits.

“You just gonna sleep like that?” She frowns at him.

Bobby looks down at himself, wondering what the hell she’s talking about. She suppresses her laugh again, not to cause suspicions in the house.

“No, I mean -” She makes a swirling motion above her head, in reference to his. “Like. With your hair. You’re gonna be all frizzy.”

“What?”

“You need a night cap.” She lies down and looks over the side of the bed at him.

“Oh,” He tilts his head. “You think?”

“Yeah! I put special effort into re-doing those locs, you gotta keep ‘em fresh.” She grins, pulling more of the duvet up the bed until just her head is sticking out the top of a cushiony lump.

"Mm," He reaches up to turn off the lamp on the nightstand, plummeting them into darkness. "They'll be fine."

"Fine." He hears her giggle but can't see her face. "Be wrong."

Bobby rubs at his tired eyes with the inside of his palm, eyes dry from being out in the sun all day. The day finally hits him, energy drained in a matter of seconds. He is sure he is going to fall asleep quickly, mind beginning to get dragged into oblivion. But, it gets interrupted, constantly, by the frustrated rustling sounds of Poppy above.

“What are you doing?” He asks quietly, when she rolls over for the 8th time.

“Too warm.” She huffs.

“Sleep without the duvet.” He mumbles.

“Then I’ll be too cold.”

“Stick your feet out.”

“Demons.”

He makes an amused noise, still on the verge of sleep.

“It’s probably because you’re up on the bed.” He yawns.

“What?”

“Heat rises.” He says. “Didn’t you pay any attention in science lessons?”

“I didn’t pay attention in any lessons.”

“Ah. That explains it.”

“What?” She laughs, quietly.

“You know.”

“You calling me dumb?”

“Dumb as the day is _long._ ” He smiles to himself.

Poppy doesn’t answer, unlike her, just laughing instead. Maybe it’s the heat. He’s just on the edge of drifting off when a pillow _thwacks_ against his face. He yelps, bolting upright as Poppy tries to hold in her giggle.

“Oh my god,” She gasps. “You sounded like you’ve shit yourself.”

“Of course I shit myself! You hit me with a pillow!” He shout-whispers and chucks it back.

He can’t see much but the playful smile across her face is apparent enough in the dark. She worries her bottom lip in her teeth, trying to count his freckles in the dark.

“Can I have a cuddle?” She whispers.

Excitement lights him up, but he fights the urge to smile.

“Really? Are you sure? Is that not moving too fast -”

She hits him with the pillow again.

“Will you not get too warm?” He tries again.

“It’s fine.” She laughs softly. “Don’t act so shocked.”

She pulls the duvet back before he slides in next to her. She’s like a radiator, burning up his side as their skin touches. 

“Jesus, no wonder you’re warm.” Bobby says, kicking the blanket down the bed. “You’re like an oven.”

She laughs but he can’t see her roll her eyes at him. All things considered, life is okay. Bobby likes this weather and he’d honestly rather roast alive than be stuck in the freezing Glasgow chill. He’d rather burn a hundred times over.

“Nuh-uh. Roll over,” She says when he turns to face her.

“What?”

“I wanna be big spoon!” She grins. Even in the pitch black it dazzles.

Bobby’s heart skips. Can that happen? A girl not wanting to be the little spoon? Priya never wanted that. He rolls over, facing away from her and sighs deeply as her arms snake around him and pull him up close. He feels her rest her forehead between his shoulder blades, breathing in deeply the sweet linen of his clean shirt.

Not that she needs to, but she doesn’t say anything else. Her fingers gently drag along his forearm, spelling out indistinguishable letters. For a moment he swears she’s spelling out his name.

He’s more awake than ever, on fire with her pressed all up against his back. The true darkness of the night never arrives. Even behind him, he can see her glow. Shining unapologetically like a beacon in a stormy night. He can’t fully close his eyes, until he feels Poppy’s breathing even out, too scared that if he drifts off first he won't soak up all of her warm haze.

Sleep comes for her soon enough, her arms going limp around him and just as quick, sleep begins to sink it’s fingers into Bobby too. He begins to drift, feeling like he’s falling, her arms wrapped around him the infinite and threatening his demise.

It should be scary, but for once there’s no doubts in his mind. All goes black and he revels in the rush as he falls.

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeyyy guys.
> 
> damn, i rly don't be having much to say this time round SFLSJGKDJFK. hope you enjoyed it!!! 💖
> 
> if you are not already, come and join myself and other litg ff writers & artists on the r/LITGFanFiction subreddit!! it's dedicated to all things creative, brainstorming and general ff discussion!
> 
> kudos, comments, shouting at me on twitter @l0singface or tumblr @losingface is always highly appreciated! sometimes i draw things and post them.
> 
> thank you for reading!!!!! 💖


	23. When A Fire Starts To Burn

**

  
  


The first signs of the morning sun trickling through the closed blinds and Poppy sighing in her sleep wakes Bobby up.

Heavy eyelids and grogginess fight with him, but eventually he opens his eyes. He’s flat on his back, burning up from the literal human hot water bottle that is Poppy, sprawled all over him. 

The duvet is long gone, too hot for the both of them. Her head is resting on his shoulder, her mouth slightly open with her nose and eyebrows all screwed up in an angry fashion. It’s kind of adorable and kind of hilarious. She'd been tossing and turning all night, only calming down when she got impossibly closer to him.

She sighs again, her body rising and dipping slowly as she exhales. The rush of air ghosts against his neck, warmer than the air in the room. Even in sleep she makes him feel a little crazy, invoking emotions that he didn’t even know he could experience purely from being next to someone. 

There’s a sudden surge in him, wanting more than anything to just jump up and shake her awake, excited for the future possibilities they could share today. What he’d give to hear her laugh or see her smile right now. But, he doesn’t. He stays there, reeling in their little private peace. Mostly because he knows she would definitely punch him if he woke her like that.

Carefully, he reaches over, plucking one of her plaits sitting on her face and moving it out the way. His cheeks begin to blaze with an unforgiving heat as he shifts again, realising his morning glory is very much poking at her thigh draped over him. Oh, god. It only gets worse when he realises she’s trapped him with no escape. Oh - _god_. He slowly turns his head, trying not to jostle her too much as he peers over at his clock.

Phew, okay. It’s just before 6 o'clock. Maybe he should wake her after all.

He reaches down, lightly brushing over her chin with his finger, enough to gently stir her awake. He does it again and smiles when her eyebrow twitches. She groans and gently bats his hand away when he does it a third time. He grins as she shifts and buries her face between his neck and shoulder.

“Fuck off.” She mumbles and groans when he pokes her on the shoulder.

“You’re grumpy in the mornings.” He muses.

"M'not."

"We need to get up."

“Mmph,” Another groan. “Don’t wanna ge’up.” Her voice is all low and gravely, her barely audible words tickling the side of his neck. It makes his whole body shiver, worsening the situation between his legs.

“We have to.” He looks over at the clock again. “Training.”

“Comfy.” She whines.

“ _Training_.”

"Fuck training."

"I don't think that's possible."

“I have to go home and get my stuff.” She huffs, annoyed.

“Well, you’re certainly making an effort to move.” He murmurs.

She laughs quietly and shuffles to get comfortable again. Her movement freezes when Bobby sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, unable to stop it before it happens. He can’t even hide... _it_ , obviously poking into her thigh. They both go silent, neither of them even daring to take a breath. Talk about an elephant in the room. Specifically the trunk.

He can feel Poppy's face begin to rapidly heat up too, burning his skin. It's incredibly tense. He doesn't know whether to just act like it's not there or say something. She's so close he is convinced she can hear his thoughts too.

_Should I say something? I should say something. No… no. Yes? No, I won’t say something. But -_

Her hand glides up to his neck, snapping him out of his minor inner turmoil. Her fingers draw over his jawline, sweetly stroking his skin before pushing him to face her. Apologetic words are on the tip of his tongue, his whole body lit up with embarrassment. But, she raises up on her elbow and cuts him off with a kiss. The dark curls spilling out of her plaits frame her face and gently graze along Bobby’s burning cheeks as their lips meet.

It’s sweet and light, like fine sugar dancing in the warm air around them. Everytime he kisses her it’s like tasting a treat he’s been craving his whole life. But, it's never enough, leaving him aching for more. Too damn sweet. 

They can't see much in the faint light of the room, but he catches her biting her lip as she pulls back to stare down at him. He meets her smile with one of his own, desire quickly overtaking the embarrassment. He rests a gentle hand on the back of her neck and pulls her down to capture her lips again.

She keeps a little distance, taunting him with short hot kisses. And he chases after them, like the sucker he is. With a happy sigh sound against his mouth, she teases his lower lip before sucking it gently. A satisfied _mmm_ trickles out of him, drawing out more soft sounds of pleasure from her too. He tilts his head as his mouth falls open and she effortlessly follows his movement, in-tune with his need and kissing him more deeply than before. 

When she pulls away again, she keeps their lips just barely touching, heavy breaths passing back and forth. There's an honest glint in her eye. Kind of like she's scared.

"You've got new freckles." She says gently, running the tip of her finger down his nose and over his lips to his chin.

Bobby smiles up at her, so wide and honest, touched that she would even notice something like that. She continues to just look at him, impossibly close to get a better look in the dim light of the room. Her eyes dart all over, like she's trying to get a good look at every single freckle. It makes his face burn, desperate to know whatever thoughts are running around in her mind.

Each touch from her sends his heart racing. It's so delicate. So innocent, taking her time to explore. She carefully caresses over his cheeks, forehead, the bags under his eyes. He doesn't want it to stop.

She dips down for a kiss again but stops as their lips brush.

"You're so gorgeous," She murmurs, against his mouth.

Oooh, that hits him. He can't stop his groan as he tugs her back down for more with no regard for anything else. No one's ever said that before. No one's ever made him feel the way she's so easily capable of doing. It's like she's digging deep into his insides, making a mess of what he once knew. Never experienced anything like it. With her he feels so… cherished. Like, for once in his life he's not overlooked. On top of the world. It's burning him up.

The initial sweetness melts, quickly reaching a boiling point and turning into a molten golden mess. Poppy doesn’t shy away from it, digging her fingers into his dreads and dipping her tongue next to his with a selfish heat she only has for him. Bobby meets her there, scraping his teeth over her lips, sucking and biting as he pulls her closer. She moans softly and, god, that really makes him hard.

The kiss keeps growing, heavy and hot until their mouths are sealed together, greedily taking everything they can get. Poppy shifts, keeping her lips on his as she straddles his hips, the heat between her legs settling on top of his. Jesus Christ, it is dizzying. She was burning before, but now it’s a wildfire. 

Achingly slow, she draws a half circle with her hips, smiling against his mouth as she swallows his grunt. She does it again… and again, both of them softly moaning as she grinds down and perfectly catches her clit through her underwear on the rigid edge of him. He reaches up, fingers about to slide under the hem of her shirt and -

His alarm rings.

They startle away from each other, lips ripping apart. Poppy quickly turns her head, resting against his shoulder to hide her ruddy face, like she's just been caught in the act. Suddenly they realise how fast things escalated. So easy to get lost in each other. 

They've never kissed like that before.

Bobby stares up at the ceiling, catching his breath. She slides down, trying to not watch his dick spring up as she sits on his thighs instead. He watches as she stretches over to turn his alarm off.

The silence that follows begs for one of them to crack, it’s too intense. Poppy does first.

“Um,” She sighs, her huge eyes darting towards the door. “We should get ready -”

“Yeah,” He nods, blinking up at her. “Yeah, okay.”

She shuffles off of him as he begins to sit up, his erection bobbing unsubtly in his underwear. She can’t help but glance down, trying to stop her smile as her face heats up again. Promptly, she gets up off the bed and searches for her clothes.

The embarrassment comes roaring back, tenfold. God.

He gets changed in the bathroom, giving Poppy some privacy. He sits on the edge of the tub for an unsettling amount of time, just waiting for his hard-on to subside. He just knows it’s a lost cause. It’s a guarantee he’ll be thinking about that kiss all damn day. When he finally emerges from the bathroom, Poppy is waiting for him and leaning up against the wall.

“Hey -”

“Did you crank one out?” She asks, undoing the last of her plaits.

“ _What?_ ” He sputters, too loud for the early morning.

“ _Shh!_ ” She whispers and smacks his arm. “I’m joking.” She quietly laughs at his shell-shocked face and stands up straight. “C’mon, lets go.”

“Oh, _now_ you want to go.” He rolls his eyes but his smile is warm. “Unbelievable.”

“Shut up.” She laughs again and walks past him.

  
  


**

  
  


“It was awful.”

“I really can’t see how that is a deal breaker. You like her don’t you?”

“Mate, it was definitely a deal breaker.”

“What’s the deal breaker?” Bobby casually asks as he sits on the sand next to Gary and Ibrahim.

“I kinda had a date with this girl last night and -”

“It’s literally the most stupid thing I have ever heard.” Gary interrupts and shakes his head.

“It’s not _stupid_.” Rahim frowns and then turns to Bobby. “You remember that neighbourhood watch girl I mentioned ages ago, that chased me down on the bike on heist night?”

“Uh, yeah.” Bobby nods. “Jo?” He asks.

“Yes! Her!” Rahim grins, excited. “Basically, we’ve been talking for a while and finally decided to go out and do something. We were walking back from town after milling about and stopped at a food truck ‘cause I was starving. Anyways, I got a hotdog and when she got her food she turned to me and said ‘hotdogs are basically sandwiches aren’t they?’”

Bobby blinks once and then twice when he realises Ibrahim isn’t joking.

“You’re… that’s… that’s your deal breaker? Because she thinks hotdogs are sandwiches?” Bobby asks, unable to finish his sentence without laughing.

“So dumb.” Gary adds.

“Because they’re _not_ sandwiches.” Rahim defends. “They’re _hotdogs._ They literally have their own name.”

“You’re seriously not going to see her again because of that?” Gary asks him, shocked.

“It’s just weird, bro.”

“Oh my days.” Gary throws his arms in the air, some sand following behind them. “You’re crazy. She sounds majorly hot, too.”

Bobby goes to answer when he catches Poppy entering the beach out the corner of his eye. It's so incredibly hard not to be obvious. Especially after this morning. He can feel himself get antsy, pulse beginning to race and thoughts beginning to snowball. Unholy thoughts. Not like this should be a surprise to him. He's had a couple day dreams here and there but after this morning his brain is working hard at making dirty films that star him and her.

He’s about to flash her a smile when he spots Noah and Priya walking together a few paces behind her. Noah’s very animated as he talks, grinning and keeping his eyes focused on hers, really deep into their conversation. He grins even wider when Priya laughs at a comment he makes and lightly shoves at his arm.

Bobby is so distracted watching them that he doesn’t even realise Poppy walking over to join the circle until she sits next to him. She leaves plenty of distance, enough to not question anything. Gary and Ibrahim continue to argue about this whole sandwich-hotdog thing.

“What actually qualifies as a sandwich though?” Gary asks. “Isn’t it just, like, filling in between bread. That technically would make a hotdog a sandwich.”

Ibrahim smooths a hand over his rows and shakes his head. “You’re mad.”

“ _You’re_ mad!” Gary points. “Not calling a girl back because she makes one little weird comment?”

“Oh, god.” Poppy laughs and rolls her eyes. “Whose heart are you breaking now, Rahim?”

“I’m not breaking hearts!” Ibrahim laughs. “That’s not me.”

Bobby is barely listening, eyes glued to this new bizarre sight in front of him. He’s so obviously staring that when Noah and Priya walk over to the group, Noah meets his stare with a huge amount of confusion. Then guilt. Then confusion again. They sit opposite Bobby and Poppy, mirroring them on the opposite side of the circle.

Poppy is so enwrapped in the conversation, laughing her ass off as Ibrahim has to explain the hotdog story all over again, her head practically spins as her eyes land over on Priya. Gary breaks any awkwardness before it can begin.

“Priya!” Gary grins so wide it looks like it hurts. “You’re back!”

Ibrahim greets her with an over enthusiastic hello too, bombarding her with questions on where she’s been the past few days. Bobby on the other hand looks like he is going to throw up all over himself from pure panic alone. Thankfully for Poppy, Lottie and Hope appear seconds later, dragging her away from the group and heading over to the tower.

Priya is talking as breezy like she always has. Her eyes are bright, alongside her killer smile, spouting out interesting conversation like all is well in the world. Bobby doesn’t say a single word, watching this act she’s putting on fold out in front of them. They’re laughing and joking like normal, Gary poking fun whilst Priya laughs and nods along.

But, there are moments when Priya glances over at Bobby, their eyes struggling to meet for just a second and then shying away again. She doesn’t frown or anything, she somehow maintains that stellar smile. 

Bobby doesn’t know what to think. 

  
  


**

  
  


After their lunch break, Caroline gathers the group together in a huddle.

“Today is Friday, which marks a week until the famous San Fermín festival.” Caroline begins. “So… that means a whole bunch of tourists and locals completely off their tits for a day. Lucky us.”

Gary and Henrik exchange a subtle fist bump. Chelsea muffles her giggle behind her hand as Gary shoots her a smile.

“And, we the Junior Lifeguards are going to prepare our CPR skills, because unfortunately, water, stupidity and alcohol do not mix.” Caroline sighs. “This programme isn’t made of money. Hell, I don’t even know how Stirling ran it in the first place,”

A few murmurs get passed around the group and then someone giggles, but just quiet enough for Caroline not to hear.

“So, we don’t have any of those fancy CPR dummies. I need you guys to split off into pairs, for practice. And before I hear any whining about having to put your lips on someone else, I’m sure you’d _much_ rather do it with your peers than a complete stranger.”

Responding nods and yeses all around.

“God forbid anything happening this summer.” Caroline sighs to herself and shakes her head.

Her somber expression quickly changes as she grabs with the whistle around her neck and blows hard, wrecking the calm air with an ear piercing ring followed by a shout.

_“Everyone get into pairs!”_

Suddenly, there’s a lot of movement. So much so that Bobby stumbles back a little when people start rushing and flinging themselves towards their preferred partners. Chelsea and Noah are gone from his side in seconds. When the movement settles again he sees he is the only one person left on his own and - _crap._ So is Poppy.

So much for trying to keep distance.

They give each other a look, Bobby with wide eyes and Poppy’s not so panicked ones. She shrugs and walks over to him. Standing by his side, she clasps her hands together by her back, trying to not look too pleased. Bobby lets out a deep breath when her arm brushes against his.

“Right,” Caroline sighs and gestures on to the ground. “Now, one of you needs to be the rescuee in this situation, whilst the other is obviously the lifeguard. We’ll rotate and take turns so you’ll all learn the basic maneuvers and steps. And hopefully we can move onto some more serious training next week.”

Poppy goes to lie on the ground, taking the lead before everyone else. One by one, someone in their respective pairs lies on the hot sand, taking their positions. Just as Poppy sits down, she catches a glimpse of Priya and Noah a few meters away, Hope and Lucas in between as a nice buffer. Noah lies on the ground, grinning up at Priya who laughs and wiggles her eyebrows at him. 

Poppy doesn’t think much of it until Priya looks up and then shoots a challenging look over at her. She doesn’t think much of it until Priya looks over at an oblivious Bobby, trying to catch his eye for a second. To see if he’s watching her and Noah.

“Wait,” Poppy shoots up as Bobby kneels beside her. She pushes at his chest. “You lie down first.”

“What?” Bobby frowns, but doesn’t really fight it and does as he’s told.

“Just do it.” Poppy huffs, getting up onto her knees beside him.

She glances over at Priya who’s looking straight at her, her smug smile replaced with a hard frown. Poppy shoots a challenging smile back. Whatever game Priya is playing, Poppy is up for the challenge. 

“Right,” Caroline begins, pacing about the different pairs. “The first step is to make sure the patient is lying on their back on a firm surface. In real life situations you’d have the patient on one of the stretchers from the tower, but we’ll make do with the sand today.” She says.

“Position yourself so you’re kneeling beside the patient and position the heel of your non-dominant hand on the centre on their chest -” She continues. 

Bobby squints, eyes burning from looking up at the bright sky, but soon enough it’s blocked as Poppy shuffles closer and places her hands on his chest. She smiles down at him, blushing a little. Her hair isn’t in a bun today, long curly locks dropping down and framing her face. God. His heart flips. It’s no use, he’s still as blinded by her as he is the sun. 

“- then, keeping your arm straight, cover the first hand with the heel of your other and interlock your fingers.”

Bobby can’t hold her stare for too long, images of this morning beginning to threaten at the edges of his mind. The last thing he needs right now is to pop a tent right in the middle of training. He’s already on edge from them being very close out in the open. Plus… things… _parts_... are dangerously close to his face as she leans over him.

An amused look washes over her as she looks down at him again, obviously not listening to Caroline any more. He doesn’t understand why she's smiling until he realises that his heart is beating rapidly and she can obviously feel it, still having her hands on his chest. A blush trickles from his face to his neck, painting a plush pink under his freckles.

“You warm?” She asks quiet enough just for him to hear.

Bobby lets out a nervous laugh and clears his throat, trying to downplay his smile.

“Something along those lines.” He murmurs.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s just the sun.” She grins.

“Aye, I somehow doubt that.” He says, making her laugh. “I don’t think it’s the sun I should be worried about.” He shifts, trying not to be completely obvious as he lifts his hips off the ground by less than an inch and settles back down again.

Bobby tries to focus again, listening as Caroline explains chest compressions.

“Lean forward so that your shoulders,” Caroline gestures to herself and demonstrates. “are directly over the patient’s shoulders. This is where you would press down on the chest, but as we’re practicing on actual conscious people you don’t need to do that -”

There’s a giddiness in Poppy’s eyes that Bobby hasn’t seen in a while. Scheming one of her little plans. She raises up on her knees slightly as she squares her shoulders and leans over him. 

“What should you be worried about?” She whispers, trying to continue their conversation.

Oh, god, the sultry sound of her voice sends a shiver down his back, hitting places he didn’t even know could be affected. He feels dizzy and she’s barely touching him.

“Just a few things.” Bobby mumbles.

“Just a few?”

“Two… very particular things.” He tries again, as quietly as he can, averting his gaze somewhere else.

Poppy laughs, watching his blush deepen. Too easy. She unclasps one of her hands, when no one around is looking, dancing her fingers down his sternum. Bobby grabs her wrist before she reaches his belly button and gives her a pointed look.

“What are you doing!?” He whispers, staring up at her with wild eyes.

“Aw, c’mon it’s funny.” She grins.

She tries to move her hand again but he tightens his grip on her wrist and pulls it back to his chest.

“I really don’t think it is.” He says sternly.

Poppy simply rolls her eyes and puts her hand back. She can’t resist looking up again, feeling beyond satisfied to see that Priya is watching them, her glare even harder than before. 

“You need to give the patient thirty chest compressions at a rate of one hundred compression per minute.” Caroline says, walking past Chelsea and Gary, pointing at his hands and silently telling him to adjust them. When she’s happy she keeps walking around the group. “If you are unfamiliar with this speed, just push to the beat of the Bee Gees song ‘Stayin’ Alive.’”

There’s a few laughs around the group. Henrik starts singing to himself, making some of the others laugh even more. Chelsea and Hope join in, a little louder. Bobby sighs, trying to calm himself down, feeling his skin begin to goosebump even in the scorching sun. But, it’s no use. He can feel the rush of blood heading south. Part of him wants to accept his fate and the other is screaming at him to get up and run.

“Now, once you have performed chest compressions, you move onto rescue breaths. This is where you blow into the patient's mouth to hopefully help clear their airways.” Caroline says.

Bobby’s eyes go wide, immediately locking onto Poppy’s. Good god. He’s fucked. So fucked.

“Don’t you dare.” Bobby says up to her.

“What?” Poppy laughs, batting her eyelashes at him before looking up again.

Caroline lifts a hand to her chin to demonstrate. “Tilt the patient's head and lift their chin to open up the airway again. And make sure their mouth falls open.” 

Poppy keeps starting ahead of her, watching as Priya does so, not looking breaking their staring match.

“Then, pinch the nostrils closed whilst supporting the patient's chin with your hand -”

Priya pinches Noah’s nose. Poppy does the same to Bobby. They then support their chins. The girls keep their stares on each other. Priya looks so hacked off, it only makes Poppy want to piss her off even more. Even if that does mean basically kissing Bobby in front of everyone.

“Next you would take a normal breath and put your mouth over the patient’s and blow until you see their chest rise.”

“I really don’t think you should.” Bobby’s voice comes out all squeaky from having his nose pinched.

“Oh, but I think I should.” Poppy mumbles, not looking down at him.

Bobby can’t breath. He is basically half-mast and if she lays her lips on him there is a very high chance of the flag being raised.

Just as Poppy is about to lean down, absolutely set on placing her lips on his infront of everyone for the pure thrill of pissing Priya off, Caroline claps her hands together.

“Right! Now switch with your partners and repeat those steps.” She says loudly and looks around the group. “If you need any help just wave me over.”

Bobby actually melts, so relieved. He’s up on his knees so quickly it makes Poppy jump back and start laughing. 

“You’re not funny.” He frowns at her, pointing for her to lie down.

“Well, I think it’s funny.” She grins, trailing her gaze all the way from his pink face to his shorts. “And don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”

Bobby huffs, trying to keep a straight face, but deep down… yeah, he kinda did. As Poppy lies down on the sand, she catches Priya’s stare again, giving her a smile and a cheeky wink.

Yep. That definitely pisses Priya off.

  
  


**

  
  


No one hangs back today. 

As soon as training is over, the group is clearing away from the beach as fast as seagulls gunning for freshly dropped food. Bobby doesn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to Chelsea or Noah. Bobby’s still toweling off his hair as he watches them both stalk off in different directions. Next to him, Gary, Ibrahim, Lottie and Marisol are bickering away, still on the subject from this morning of what is a sandwich.

“Sushi cannot be a sandwich!” Gary bellows. “Mars, you are absolutely insane -”

“But, it’s filling encased in something right?” Marisol laughs, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “That’s a sandwich!”

“That would make, like, a calzone a sandwich too.” Lottie adds. She starts laughing as Ibrahim’s face drops.

“Or a burrito!” Marisol adds, giggling too.

“Ooh, or like spring rolls -”

“Oh my god.” Gary shakes his head.

“No, no, no - _no!_ ” Rahim talks over them all. “It has to be bread. _Bread._ ” He smacks his hands together, heated. Who knew sandwiches could get the blood pumping.

“So, like a hotdog then?” Marisol says.

Rahim groans, smacking himself on the forehead. They all start walking and head for the street, the girls laughing as Gary starts scolding them for disrespecting the sanctity of the sandwich. Bobby watches, his stare moving over to Noah who is a few metres behind them, beginning his walk home too.

A sharp sting hits him as he watches Priya bound over to him and they start walking down the beach to the street together. 

The sting stays a bit longer than he anticipated, soon blooming into a pain in his chest. It’s not big or striking, like when he upset Poppy or when he broke up with Priya. It’s more like a pin-prick, quick and sharp and annoying. But, it’s still as significant. It’s still a pain. But it’s a pain he can’t seem to figure out. He chucks his towel on the ground and makes a beeline for Noah and Priya, not even thinking about what he is going to say. But, he needs to say something.

“ _Guys!”_ He shouts, catching up to them. “Hey, Priya! Noah!”

He watches the pair stop. Priya obviously tenses as she turns to look at him, but her face is plastered with the same smile she’s been putting on all day. So blinding with fakeness. Bobby has no idea how she does it and he’s certain he is the only one who seems to be picking up on it. Noah is much happier to see him though, albeit a little wary.

“Hey,” Bobby takes a moment to catch his breath and looks over to Priya. “Do you mind if I talk to you real quick?”

Priya looks to Noah, almost like she’s asking permission. Noah smiles and shrugs, making a small touch of a smile hit her face too. Priya turns to Bobby and gives him a nod.

“You wanna go down the pier?” He asks.

She nods again and takes his lead as they begin walking in that direction.

They walk in silence, reminiscent of the time when they walked their way down here the day after Lottie’s party. Looking back, he feels silly from how wound up he was from the idea of talking to her. He feels even worse as they continue to walk, knowing how bad he let things spiral out of control, so out of tune with his true feelings that he let multiple people get hurt.

They arrive at the end of the pier and like a reflex, they both take a seat in the same place as before, dangling their legs over the decking and looking out over the ocean. The sea hits the beams underneath, sending a salty spray up and into the air, tingling on their mouths and noses.

Neither of them speak for a moment, trying to enjoy the view before diving into an unavoidable and uncomfortable conversation. 

“So.” He starts, looking out at the sea. Déjà Vu. “How’s your day?”

A slight smile peaks out the side of her face, hearing those words he first uttered to her here all those weeks ago.

“Did you really pull me away to ask about my day?” She says, just the same as last time.

Bobby laughs softly, glad she remembers their first moment here as well as he does. Maybe it won’t be so awkward after all.

“I don’t want this to end on an argument.” Bobby sighs. “I don’t think it would benefit either of us.”

“Me neither.”

“Maybe we can just… I don’t know, at least try to be friends.”

Priya nods, waiting for him to keep talking, stretching out the silence but he has nothing else to say.

“What, you're not even sorry?” Priya asks.

“Oh! Um -” Fuck. He’s taken aback, wondering why an apology wasn’t even on the forefront of his mind. “I’m sorry, Priya. I really am.”

“For what?” She probes.

“For hurting you.”

“And?”

“What?”

“What do you mean what?”

“I don’t understand what else you want me to say.” He frowns at her.

“God,” She shakes her head. “You are unbelievable.”

Fuck, this is rapidly going down hill.

“What?” He asks.

“I’m not stupid, Bobby. The only reason you want to make up is to feel less guilty about going behind my back and soon enough you’ll end up with her. And you can’t even apologise for it.” She shakes her head. “I saw what you two were doing today during training!” She points to the beach. “There’s clearly something… happening. Y’know what -”

Suddenly, she’s up on her feet. Bobby makes a move to get up too, following after her.

“Priya, _please_ , we have to have this out or it’ll never be over with.”

She whips around to face him, her face an angry red that he hates seeing on her these days. It looks so unnatural and un-herself. Priya isn’t the type of person to normally get angry, only making Bobby feel worse knowing that he’s the one that makes her feel this way.

“For god sake,” She sighs, trying to calm herself down. “We _don’t_ have to have this out. _You_ want to have this out because _you_ feel bad about the stupid shitty things you’ve done. And knowing you, you won’t be able to stop thinking about it until it’s resolved. Because _you_ want to go ahead and fuck Poppy guilt free whenever the time comes.” She waves her hands about, trying to emphasise her point. 

Bobby stands there, in shock, arms slack by his sides and no thoughts running in his mind. No words to defend himself with.

Because she’s right.

“And I’m not going to fucking give it to you.” Priya continues, louder than before. “I’m not going to give you my blessing or kind words, because you screwed me over. You made me feel like I was suddenly everything you wanted and then dropped me like I was nothing the moment you could.” She jabs a finger at him. “You’re selfish and a prick and I hope it doesn’t work between you two.” 

Priya squares her shoulders, looking like she’s about to leave but utters one more jab at him.

“I hope she realises you’re not good enough.”

He watches her walk away, as calmly as they did a few minutes ago. She doesn’t look mad anymore. More relieved than anything, like a weight has risen from her shoulders. Her head is high and she walks with a bounce. She’s happy.

Bobby takes a breath, her words sinking in deep and fast, to the point where it frightens him. Because, she’s right. In a way. He wants things to be better. He wants Priya to not have a problem with Poppy, because eventually it’s going to be all out in the open. Right? Secrets don’t last forever here.

When he finally trudges back to the beach, Poppy is sitting up in the tower, her legs dangling from the deck. It makes his heart sing. She’s waiting for him. She gives him a concerned smile as he makes his way up the ramp and he shoots half-hearted one back. He looks at her and all he can think is how lucky he is. But, Priya’s spiteful words stay stuck in his mind. Now that she’s his, she is now also his to lose. How long will it be until Priya’s words become a reality? 

_I hope she realises you’re not good enough._

But, before he can let his thoughts spiral, Poppy breaks his train of thought.

“Can I talk to you?” She asks before he can sit down beside her.

“You alright?” He frowns.

“Yeah, yeah, just -” She looks around, quickly. “C’mon.”

She jumps up and spins on her heel and heads straight inside. Bobby stalls for a second, watching her until his legs finally start to carry him and follow her path.

Poppy sits up on Stirling’s desk, not looking at him until he closes the door behind him, making the room go silent. For the first time today Bobby can’t hear screeching seagulls or the gentle rush of the ocean. Just the silence in between them. He meets Poppy’s stare, her expression difficult to solve.

She goes to open her mouth but instead, turns her head to look out the window at the sky outside, painted with pastel colours and the white streaky clouds she enjoys so much.

“Do you… do you still like Priya?” She asks, still looking outside, her lips twisting into a frown as the words leave her.

He stills completely, his heart pounding.

“What? No,” He shakes his head. "Why do you think that?"

“I don’t, I just...” She trails off, looking down to her lap. "I think she still likes you.”

“I really don’t think she does.”

“Just because you're not together anymore doesn't mean there still can't be feelings there." Poppy says. “She may be hurt but… I think it’s because she cares.”

There's a pang of hurt in her voice, like she's admitting something. It dawns on him, realising how it must’ve looked chasing after Priya to talk to her. She's jealous. 

Though he understands, there is a tiny niggle of resentment at the back of his mind. Fair enough that Poppy had to watch him be with Priya. But, at the same time he had to watch her galavant around with Rocco. There’s a bitter taste on his tongue but he pushes it away.

He steps over to Poppy, resting his hands lightly on her knees. They both sigh from the contact, trying not to be so outwardly obvious how much they affect each other. He swears, even for just a second there is a spark of electricity. He's wanted to touch her all day and now that he is he can feel the beginnings of flames.

“I like you.” He says, watching his hands gently rub her soft skin and looks back up at her face.

Poppy flushes under his gaze. “Yeah?” She tilts her head in question, biting her bottom lip.

“Yeah.” He nods with a smile.

But, even that is barely true. ‘Like’ barely touches the surface of what he feels. Their eyes are locked, both of them trying to decipher what the other is thinking. He presses his fingers into her skin a little harder, making her breathe in deep and sigh again.

Slowly, so… _so_ slowly, he pushes her legs apart. Her gaze flicks down, breaking their stare for the first time in minutes before landing back on his face again. She doesn't stop him, watching his face as he does so. There's not a single sign of hesitation.

Her hands grip the edge of the desk, feeling her pulse beginning to ramp up. Bobby has no idea what’s happening, what’s gotten over him, but keeps pushing at her legs until they’re spread and steps forward into the gap.

"I really like you." He murmurs, eyes darting between hers.

From the kiss this morning to the ridiculous show during training, his whole body is buzzing. God. It's not fair how much he wants her. He wants her _bad._

Another flame sparks, the room instantly feeling a hundred times hotter than it's ever been. He slides his hands up, hot skin on hot skin, stopping dangerously close to her bikini line and rests his thumbs on the insides of her thighs. 

Softly, he draws little circles with the pads of his thumbs, making her let out a dreamy sigh. Gentle. Cautious. He’s so close he can feel the heat between her legs. Just the thin fabric of her swimwear separates them, teasing his mind of what beauty is underneath. 

And still, Poppy doesn’t move, letting him push the boundaries. Her eyes are black, a smouldering heat and unspoken dirty thoughts behind them.

Again, Priya’s word jab at him, still there in the back of his mind. But, he pushes them away with an anger he hasn’t felt in a long time. The pain becomes a spite, wanting to prove that Poppy wants him as much as he wants her.

“I _want_ you.” He says softly. “Just you.”

Finally, she makes a move, sitting up straight and reaching out for him. She traces her fingers down from his collarbone and over his freckled chest, watching a blush rocket up to his neck. The tease is enough to push him again. He grabs her hips, pulling her forward and making her squeak in surprise as the distance between them closes. Their lips brush, feather light. He can feel her quick breaths against his mouth.

“I’ve never wanted anything as much as you.” He mutters, keeping their eyes locked.

The ache in her eyes and her soft pants against his lips drowns his doubts and ignites his desire. Sparks set off in his chest, quickly becoming hot dancing flames. 

"I want you, too." She murmurs.

The air is as thick as this morning, waiting for either of them to break.

This time it’s Bobby.

He kisses her, hot and demanding. All the air rushes out of his lungs, making him dizzy and spots twinkle in the edges of his vision. It’s crazy, but so is he, so are they, apparently, because neither of them can stop. Her hands flutter for a second before she grabs at his waist, digging her fingers in and making his hips buck forwards against hers. 

Fuck, he knew he was always going to love kissing her if he was ever blessed with that chance, but nothing could have prepared him for this. The hardness of her nails pinch into his skin, dragging up his back and grabbing at his shoulders and making him hiss before it melts into a moan. All her jealousy is rushing out, kissing him with a fire so hot it burns his memory of anyone else ever touching him. 

She wraps her legs around his waist, pressing their bodies tightly together. Oh, god there it is again, that blinding heat he thought he would never experience again. Only this time it's so much better. It's frantic and rough, hands roaming everywhere and tongues exploring.

They moan as their hips arch in unison, grinding against each other. He cups her breast through the fabric of her swimsuit, feeling her hard nipple against his fingers. All coherent thoughts go out the window as she makes little desperate noises in the back of her throat, her tongue softly dancing against his.

Shit, he can't control himself, so greedy for her. The fire in him is destructive, obliterating anything in its path, stripping back trees and devouring forests like they’re kindling. His hands move again, wanting more, wanting whatever else she’ll give him. Whatever this fire can take. When his fingers tangle into her hair, he pulls and she gasps into his mouth. Bobby does it again and gets the same result. _Fuck._

“Poppy,” He groans against her lips. “I -”

Heavy footsteps outside snap them to attention.

Approaching footsteps.

Shit. _Shit._

Poppy breaks the kiss, shoving at his chest, sending him stumbling back. The footsteps get closer, too close for both of them to hide. Bobby glances down at himself, panic setting in to see he’s sporting a hard-on and very obviously tenting his shorts. Just as the door opens, he grabs one of the foam kickboards off one of the equipment racks, holding it in front of his crotch.

Bobby’s eyes widen as Poppy’s jaw drops.

What... the _fuck._

Frozen in the doorway, Stirling stares at them both. Well, Bobby assumes he stares at them, given that he’s wearing those stupid aviators. He’s wearing a baseball cap to help cover his face and a denim jacket that looks way too thick to be worn out in the sun right now.

“ _Stirling!?”_ Poppy shouts, bewildered.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Stirling asks, angry.

“What the fuck are _you_ doing here?” She shoots back.

They’re taken aback, the removal of his glasses reveals a shiny purple-blue bruise around his left eye and cheekbone. Even his eyeball looks a little red. 

He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs deeply before speaking again.

"I have a problem."

Poppy looks over at Bobby, who meets her confused stare.

Shit. It looks like a problem, too.

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof 🔥🔥
> 
> stirling is back!!!!!!!
> 
> would just like to say thank u to the c-clan for keeping me fed this past week and putting up with my stupid ramblings about punk!bobby and the many drawings that followed lmao. i love you guys soooo much 💛🐸
> 
> if you are not already, come and join myself and other litg ff writers & artists on the r/LITGFanFiction subreddit!! it's dedicated to all things creative, brainstorming and general ff discussion!
> 
> kudos, comments, shouting at me on twitter @l0singface or tumblr @losingface is always highly appreciated! sometimes i draw things and post them!
> 
> thank you for reading! 💛


	24. Wait Until You Taste Me

**

“Are you out of your mind?” Garys says.

“You must be joking?” Hope asks.

“Seriously?” Lottie looks like she is about to flip the table.

“You’ve deffo lost your mind.” Gary confirms and nods, crossing his arms.

“ _Seriously?”_ Lottie repeats.

“ _Yes_.” Poppy asserts herself, raising her voice above everyone else's. “I’m being serious.”

“We are not giving the money to Stirling!” Lottie throws her arms up in the air, her face a picture of disbelief. “We risked so much and now you want to give it all back?”

Stirling's interruption in the tower turned from plain weird to super fucking crazy and concerning in a matter of seconds. Bobby stood there, completely frozen in shock, still gripping the foam kickboard in front of his raging shame.

"What do you mean you have a problem?" Poppy asks, sliding off the desk to stand up.

"People are after me." Stirling states.

Bobby and Poppy exchange a look. Oh boy.

"... Excuse me?" Poppy questions.

“ _People. Are. After. Me.”_ Stirling repeats.

“Maybe you should start from the beginning.” Bobby says.

Christ alive, this is so weird. A major boner killer.

"So. Maybe… three or so weeks ago I had - _things_ \- stolen from me. Very important things. The things that make me a decent amount of money. To the point where I use it to pay off some hefty… loans. And now I'm strapped for cash and probably gonna die.” Stirling rushes out, waving his arms all over the place.

Bobby and Poppy exchange a look again.

"You're not going to die." Poppy turns back to Stirling.

"Does this bruise look like it was made by the hand of a man who isn't willing to go further?” Stirling dramatically points to the shiner on his face. “I have seen the wrath of God in a human and it is not pretty. He's angry and he's out for me. I gotta flee or some shit."

"Flee!? Like the country?" Bobby

"No, flee as in galavant until I get killed. _Yes of course I mean flee the country!_ "

Poppy shakes her head. "You can't just leave! Your whole life is here. Think about your … things, your family, your friends -"

"Friends will understand. I don’t even talk to my own mother. Plus, I can get new things." Stirling gives a shrug.

“How much money do you need?” She asks.

“Ten grand.”

“ _Ten grand?”_

“Plus interest” Stirling squints and starts counting on his fingers. “Call it an even fifteen.”

Bobby can’t even comprehend that amount of money. And from Poppy’s shocked face he doesn’t think she can either. 

As per usual the gang is hanging out at the old arcade on a friday evening, excited to get their money from the week and celebrating with a few drinks. But that celebratory mood seems to have completely gone out the window from Poppy’s mention of Stirling.

The group continues to bicker, questioning Poppy on why she’s even brought it up in the first place. She’s sitting in her regular place, the gross leather sofa she normally shares with Rocco. But, he sits on the other side of the room, back against the wall and his arms crossed.

“Even if we did sell all the shit we wouldn’t come close to that amount.” Henrik says and pauses to do some mental maths. “Not even if we doubled the price. And it’s definitely not worth double!”

“So, Stirling got caught up in some loan sharks.” Lucas shrugs. “It’s no big deal. It’s not even our problem.”

Poppy rolls her eyes. “It’s our problem when they find out why Stirling can’t pay off his shit, dumbass.”

“Which _isn’t_ going to happen, because no one has been talking about it, right?” Lottie interjects, looking around the room.

Everyone goes silent. Lottie’s cold stare sends icy chills down Bobby’s spine, it’s so intimidating. He can feel Noah next to him literally shiver and suck in a breath.

“I just think we should help him.” Poppy explains. “I know he’s a dick sometimes, but -”

“He’s a dick all the time.” Hope frowns. “Plus, I already have plans for my cut. Stirling isn’t getting in the way of it.”

“Oo!” Hannah perks up. “What are you going to do with yours?”

“I wanna start my own company!” Hope beams, excited from just mentioning it.

“What kind of company?” Rocco asks from across the room.

“I don’t know yet.” She shrugs.

“You wanna start a company but you don’t know what kind?”

“Well, okay smartass, what are you gonna do with your money?” Hope impatiently asks.

“I don’t know. I was supposed to go to uni last year and deferred, so - ” Rocco shrugs. Before he speaks again his eyes flick over to Poppy. “Might go this year. I would probably use it for that.”

“Lame.” Hope mutters under her breath, inspecting the cuticles of her nails.

“Aw, man.” Henrik frowns. “I thought you were gonna go travelling again this year?”

“Yeah, I… that’s happening any more.” Rocco gives him a strained smile and stares down at the floor.

On the other side of the room, Poppy stands up from the sofa before walking straight to the door and outside. No one seems to notice except for Bobby, continuing on with their conversations like normal. Bobby has to stop himself from following her, sensing Rocco is watching him.

“What are you doing after summer, Henrik?” Gary asks, intrigued. “You backpacking again?”

“Thinking about it.” Henrik nods with a toothy grin. “Was thinking interrailing is the way to go right now, though.”

“That’s what my parents are doing!” Chelsea adds, excitedly. 

Quickly, the mood of the room eases up as everyone excitedly obsesses over what they’re doing after summer and what they could use their money for. Marisol is off to law school, Ibrahim has been offered a Sports Science scholarship by his university of choice and Lottie will be starting a beauty and cosmetics undergrad course in the autumn. 

Shit, even Noah and Chelsea have plans, which Bobby was completely unaware of.

“You’re going to uni aren’t you Noah?” Chelsea turns to him and asks.

For a second Noah tenses. “Yeah,” He nods. “English and creative writing.”

“That’s amazing! I wish I was booksmart.” Chelsea smiles.

“You’re smart, Chels.” Bobby frowns at her.

“Maybe. But, not like _booksmart_. I am a goldfish when it comes to academics but leave me to decorate or organise things and I am all over that shit.” She grins.

“Is that what you wanna do?” Bobby asks.

“I think so.” She shrugs. “My dad is an architect and my mum works in real-estate so it’s always been in the family -”

“Your mum works in real-estate?” Lucas overhears and butts in. “That’s exactly where I wanna put my money!”

The derailed conversation goes on for what feels like forever. Bobby has to manually remind himself to not yawn because Lucas explaining how he wants to invest in property is incredibly boring. He has nothing against the dude, but holy hell, Bobby doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone around his age who isn’t interested on spending their money on stupid shit. 

Chelsea looks bored out of her mind too, even though she seems to have a reasonable grasp on what she’s talking about. When they start using big words like ‘addendum’ and ‘foreclosure’, Bobby checks out completely. Thank god for Gary for interrupting.

“Houses are boring.” Gary chimes in. “I wanna buy a dune buggy or something.”

“A what now?” Lottie laughs.

“No! I changed my mind! I would buy a plane.” He says.

“No one would get on that plane, Gaz.” Lottie says. “Just telling you now.”

“Sure they would.”

“Not when it’s run by Twat-Airlines.” She replies. Gary makes an offended noise and throws the empty can beside him at her.

“Oh! Actually, maybe I will buy a house.” Gary pouts, starting to think to himself. “But, like, every room will have arcade machines in them or something. Or a ball pit! I could get a slide instead of stairs, like a fun house!” His eyes light up. “Oh! And those weird mirrors that make you look all wacky.”

“How would you get upstairs if there’s only a slide?” Marisol starts laughing, making some of the others laugh too.

Chelsea is giggling hysterically beside Bobby, for reasons he doesn’t understand. Gary looks immensely proud of himself. Ugh. Bobby should be laughing too but at this point he doesn’t really care, mind occupied elsewhere. Poppy still hasn’t come back inside, making him feel antsy. Fuck it. He gets up and heads for the door without looking back, unaware of Rocco’s eyes following him out.

A wall of warmth hits him as soon as he steps outside. Even though the scorching sun has surrendered to the night, the heat still lingers around most evenings. The sky is clear, no clouds in sight, pitch black showing off the blinding brightness of the moon and constellations above.

Poppy’s sitting on the brick wall, looking down at the ground and swinging her legs absently. She doesn’t realise he’s outside until his shoes crunch against the loose gravel on the ground. Her head snaps up in his direction and she gives him a weak smile.

“Hey,” He says softly, approaching her. “Can I sit down?”

She nods silently, keeping her eyes locked on the ground again. 

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly.

She sighs and looks over at him. “I don’t know. I think so, but -” Her eyebrows knit together. “I just had to get out of there.”

“Is it about the money?” He asks.

“Kind of.” She nods. “It’s about Rocco.”

Ouch. He can’t help it but the white hot jealousy digs deep in his chest, poking and prodding and taunting.

“And the travelling?” He can’t help but probe.

She nods and they share a silence for a few agonizing seconds.

“Can I tell you something?” She asks.

“Of course you can.” He scooches closer, so their thighs are touching. 

For a second he holds off on taking her hand, but another ‘fuck it’ moment strikes him and he laces their fingers together. A small smile winks in and out of existence on her lips. 

“You can tell me anything.” He adds, trying to be reassuring. 

Finally, she looks at him in the eyes. He can feel his heart flutter in his chest, warmth slowly spreading under his collar like golden syrup dribbling over pancakes. She doesn’t look shocked but, she looks… something. Open and intrigued and relieved all at once. She’s always trusted him, but now she really believes it. 

She sighs. “Rocco and I... we were…uh, we were planning to travel after summer was over and, well, obviously that’s not happening anymore.” She pauses and her face falls into a frown. “I told him the day before your birthday I didn’t want to anymore. S’why he was so pissed at your party.”

She looks away from his stare and her eyes scan over the horizon instead, met with darkness and the few streetlamps dotted along and illuminating the road.

"So stupid." She mutters to herself and shakes her head.

"It's not stupid." Bobby argues, not sure why she says that.

“It _is_ stupid. I was - well… still _am_ \- so desperate to get off this godforsaken island that I thought it’d be a good idea to make plans with this dude that I don’t actually fully like. It made sense at the time. He’s got the truck and he travels basically all year. He knows what he’s doing.” She continues, kind of laughing at herself. “But, I figured I shouldn’t leave off of someone else’s back, y’know? As much as I want to leave here I should do it on my own terms. It’s not fair to him either, no matter how much I want to leave.”

Bobby nods, feeling that jealousy all over again. He can’t help it. But, his feelings aren’t the focus right now.

“I get it.” He simply says.

“Yeah?” She looks over at him again with a sad smile.

“Yeah.” He gives her hand a squeeze. “It’ll feel a hundred times better if you do it yourself and whenever you’re ready to do so.”

He realises her eyes are watering as she stares at him, soaking in his words. Her tears are sparkling from the streetlight close by, like stars dancing on the edges of her lashes. Bobby pulls down the sleeve of his hoodie and gently presses it to the corners of her eyes, catching the wetness. She laughs, her voice a little thick.

“I shouldn’t be getting so wound up about helping Stirling either.” She adds.

“It’s sweet that you wanna help him.” Bobby says softly.

She sniffles and shakes her head. “Sorry. I’m such a downer right now.” She keeps trying to laugh it off, but the tears come quicker.

“You’re not a downer.” He smiles and continues to wipe at her face. “Listening to Lucas say he’s going to invest his money into real-estate, now _that’s_ a downer.”

Poppy laughs, loud and unexpected. 

“He said what?” She grins at him. “Investing in real-estate?”

Bobby rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me repeat it. Was dead boring. I thought I was going to start pushing daisies right there and then.”

Poppy snorts again, full bright smile taking over her face. There she is. Bobby takes his hand away and wraps an arm around her shoulders, giving her a comforting squeeze. He’s about to pull his arm away when she leans into him and rests her head on his shoulder. 

“Thank you.” She mumbles.

“For what?” He wraps one of her curls around his finger.

“For not making me feel dumb when I’m upset.”

"S'okay."

Bobby gives her another reassuring squeeze, resting his chin on top of her head. She sighs heavily, relaxing completely into his side. And just like that all his concerns melt away. She pulls away from him after a content moment and gives him a smile.

“So,” Poppy reaches over and starts fiddling with the strings on his hoodie. “You got any plans for the weekend?”

“Hmm,” Bobby makes an act of scratching at an imaginary beard on his chin. “No, nothing that I can think of. Might be seeing someone though.”

“Oh, really?” She tilts her head.

“Yeah, you might know her actually.” He nods. “She hangs around here a lot. Down the beach a lot, too. Always causing trouble.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“Very familiar.” He grins. “Come to think of it, you’ve got very similar hair."

"Oh, do we now?" She smiles at him.

"Yes. And similar eyes.” He reaches over and gently taps her on the nose. “And nose.” He leans in a little bit closer. “Lips, too.”

"Look at you, smooth talker." She grins and risks a glance down at his mouth. Her voice comes out as a whisper, gently fanning over his lips. "Tell me more."

He’s so close he can smell the cherry chapstick she normally uses. It’s overwhelming, to the point where all he can think about is what it tastes like.

“She’s smart.” He says.

“Correct.”

“And very pretty.”

“Nice touch.” She nods.

“And funny.” He grins. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” She leans back and away from him, eyebrows raised. “No kiss for you.” She hops off the wall, leaving him hanging.

Bobby bursts out laughing. “Oh, you’re evil too!” He shakes his head and pouts, watching her walk away and grab the old golf club Ibrahim messes around with that’s lying on the floor.

“I know.” She grins as she grabs a glass bottle off the ground and stands it up.

Their chatter goes on for a while longer, completely forgetting that the others are inside, enwrapped in each other. The night time breeze and the crickets sitting in the longrass is their backdrop. He’s never felt so comfortable. 

Poppy continues to line up bottles and swing at them. For a second, Bobby notices how similar her stance and swing is to Ibrahim’s. She reels back and lets the club do the work, glass smashing into shards and glittering in the air like twinkling stars. 

Soon enough the others come ambling outside, laughs and giggles coming from all of them. Ibrahim lights up as soon as he sees the golf club in Poppy's hands and comes running over, all giddy. She laughs and hands it over to him automatically.

Unfortunately her smile doesn’t even last over a second, as Rocco approaches her too and asks to talk to her away from the others. At first it looks like she is about to say no, but her shoulders sag and she lets out a breath. Bobby watches as she nods and they walk over to the other side of the road where his truck is parked. They hop in and immediately Rocco starts talking.

First Bobby hears a dramatic sigh, then just as dramatically Lottie plops down on the wall beside him. They exchange a smile before she speaks.

"How's it going?" She questions, picking a piece of lint from her sleeve and trying to not act like she’s not digging.

"It's… going okay." Bobby answers, a little cautiously. But, he can't stop his eyes from continuously darting over to Rocco’s truck. They’re faint shapes inside, too dark to see their faces.

"Still so obvious." Lottie shakes her head and looks to where Bobby is focused. "I really don't think you have anything to worry about with them."

"Other than their history." Bobby says. 

Planning to travel together isn't exactly a proposal, but it's definitely bigger than what people who just hook up do. 

"History is nothing if it's shit." Lottie says. "They've been on and off constantly. I still don’t understand how they got _on_ in the first place."

“Shit happens.” Bobby shrugs, a lot more casually than how he is actually feeling.

There’s not a name for the feeling of wanting to puncture someone’s tyres right in front of everyone but that’s exactly how he feels. He images smashing one of the windows too and it makes him smile to himself.

“He’s not good for her.” Lotties murmurs.

 _No one is good enough for her_ , is the first thought that comes to mind.

“You can say that again.” Bobby sighs.

"He just looks like the type of guy that keeps his dirty laundry on the floor."

Bobby laughs, not expecting to hear that at all.

"Then it stinks up the room." He adds.

"You're saying Rocco has a stinky room?" Lottie laughs, trying to cover it with her hand.

"Yeah, I bet it's honking. Like, not just his clothes but like weed and old food too."

'Oh god," Lottie laughs again and makes a gag sound. "Stanky ass room."

" _Sh-tanky_." Bobby says and laughs, trying to smother it as Lottie cracks up even more. It's stupid but he can't help it.

Before Lottie can add something, Hope and Marisol come bounding over.

“We think we have an idea for Stirling!” Hope grins. “Remember when we raised money last summer when Lucas broke his arm after crashing his motorbike? And he wasn’t able to fix it?”

“Yes. I remember working tirelessly for some rich boy and his minted parents could’ve just easily paid for, but, yes. Yes, I do -” Lottie has a frown on her face until she realises. “ _Ooh!”_ She grins. “Yes. _Yes_. That’s such a good idea!”

“It won’t make nearly as much money that is actually needed, but -” Marisol sighs. “It might help in some way. Might get those people off Stirling’s back.”

“Yes! I’m sure we can convince Poppy too.” Lotties nods.

“What’s a good idea?” Bobby questions, looking between the girls with a confused frown.

“You’ll see.” Hope nods and grins. “Just come to the beach tomorrow.”

  
  


**

  
  


Bobby forgets how crowded the beach and pier gets on weekends, thankful that they don’t have to endure this much traffic in the early mornings during the week. But, it’s understandable. No one would shy away from a beautiful Saturday like this. 

The sun is beaming loud and unforgiving, not a single cloud in the sky to shield them today. Even the breeze isn’t forgiving, it’s so hot. The air smells like ocean salt and smoke, the staple of a busy summer day. Beach goers are swarming the sand, towels, chairs, coolers and umbrellas at the ready. The sea is over-crowded with screaming kids in floaties and parents trying to control them. He can see Caroline sitting up in the lifeguard tower with her sunglasses on, looking bored out of her mind. Some of the other senior lifeguards are patrolling the beach and chatting absently to tourists.

People are rollerblading and skating down the strip, others sitting in cars with music playing loud. A food truck is parked up close to the shop, both of them housing long queues of people who need their fix of freezing cold ice-cream or a greasy burger.

But, as he continues to walk down the strip he realises why the crowds are getting denser and denser. Set up on the side of the street is the makeshift car wash. A shoddily painted cardboard sign hangs off one of those pop-up gazebos, gently swaying in the breeze. Tables with buckets of soapy water and many sponges and rags sit underneath, next to deck chairs where Ibrahim, Rocco and Lucas have situated themselves.

The positioning of their chairs and the dark sunglasses on their faces is enough to make Bobby laugh, so unsubtle as they watch in front of them. 

Marisol is stretching over the hood of a car scrubbing away whilst Lottie scrubs over windows. Poppy stands to the side, laughing as she sprays Hope with the hose in her hands, feigning it was an accident. All of them are clad in bikinis and cossies they would never normally wear, but for obvious reasons they are today. Some of the bystanders don’t seem to mind one bit.

Of course Bobby’s eyes wander over to Poppy first. Well...it’s not even a wander, it’s a full on sprint. She’s wearing a bright red bikini and a pair of faded cutoffs, sitting high and hugging her hips and butt. Her hair is tied up in some poofy pigtails, loose curls spiraling on either side of her face. Hope screeches as she’s hit with the hose again, only making Poppy laugh harder. They’re putting on the perfect show.

“Stop it!” Hope half-yells, half-laughs and throws a sopping wet sponge in Poppy’s direction which misses her by an inch. “Aim for below my stomach, these braids are fresh!”

Bobby walks over to where the guys are sitting, watching as Ibrahim chats with a man and accepts some money. Lucas has his arms crossed, jaw set and leg bouncing up and down. Rocco looks as chill as ever, even under the sunglasses. Ibrahim notices Bobby first and smiles at him as he gets closer.

“Hey, man.” Ibrahim gestures to the empty beach chair for him to sit in. “You here to help?”

“Is that what you call this?” Bobby laughs and gestures to all of them and looks over to the girls. “I’d say they’re doing all the work.”

Ibrahim laughs and nods as he looks back to where the girls are. There are a few vehicles lined up behind the one they’re washing now. They are certainly taking their time and said owners of the cars don’t seem to have one problem with it at all. A lot can be achieved when monkey brained men with money are shown a little skin.

“They don’t want us to help.” Lucas huffs, watching Hope get sprayed with water again. “They said it will ruin the _image_.”

Silently, Bobby, Rocco and Rahim look over to where Lucas is staring at them. They’re all standing back, hands on hips as they watch Poppy wash away the suds. Yes, four wet women in bikinis is quite the image. Bobby’s face burns as Poppy finally notices he’s here. First, it's elation and then she tries to downplay it, to not look too excited to see him. It makes his heart thump in his chest, trying to not look so happy either.

“Plus, they’re washing the cars wrong.” Lucas says.

“How can you wash a car wrong?” Rocco laughs to himself. “It’s a car.”

Lucas calmly turns his head, and pushes his sunglasses up into his hair, his wide eyes suggesting he is not feeling the same way deep down inside. The drama queen. The way Lucas is glaring at Rocco makes Bobby want to laugh and then maybe give him a hug.

“There are many ways to clean a car wrong.” Lucas says, staying calm. 

Hope’s screech snaps their attention as she gets doused with the hose again, sending water spraying everywhere. Poppy’s cackle follows quickly after.

“Oh my god.” Lucas shakes his head to himself and then cups his hands around his mouth and shouts at the girls. “You need to wipe them down faster! They’re gonna have water marks and streaks from the sun! _”_

“Shut up, Lucas!” Hope calls back, looking over at him and threatens to throw the rag in her hand.

Lucas crosses his arms tighter, grumbling under his breath as he does what he’s told. But, when Hope gives him a smile he gives her a faint one back.

Bobby hangs around, helping lug heavy soap and water filled buckets back and forth to the girls as they cycle through the queue of cars waiting. Ibrahim chats with whoever is in desperate need to get their car cleaned, Lucas can't stand another second of observing and decides to help and Rocco is as useless as ever, staying put.

Bobby tries not to stare too much whenever Poppy has to get up on her tiptoes to reach the top of a car or bend down to get into nooks and crannies of the wheels. And he certainly tries harder to not glare at Rocco to death when his gaze flits over to her as well. Just know that her shorts are doing wonders.

When he brings over what feels like the 50th soapy bucket, he takes a moment to watch, not realising he can be seen in the reflection of the window.

“Can I help you with something, Robert?” Poppy asks, still facing the car.

He laughs nervously, looking away as soon as she catches his eye in the window.

"Just making sure you're doing a good job." He answers.

She laughs and turns to face him. She’s a little pink around the edges, her face a little flushed and sweat sitting on her forehead. Gorgeous as ever.

“You can look, it’s okay.” She says, quiet enough for only them to hear.

Bobby gulps and laughs, keeping his eyes on her face. “I feel like I shouldn’t.” He gestures as subtle as possible behind him. “I feel like there are eyes on my back.”

Poppy stays collected, looking past his shoulder for a second and then back to Bobby. She has a little smile on her face.

“Don’t worry about Rocco.” She says and waves a dismissive hand.

“It’s kind of hard not to when all he does is stare at you. And if not you then he’s trying to catch _me_ staring at you.”

“Are you staring at me a lot?” She teases and raises an eyebrow.

“That’s not the point -”

“That means yes.” Poppy laughs. “It’s okay, I like catching you looking.” She grins when his face goes red.

“You’re the worst.” He shakes his head.

“No, I’m not.”

“I hate you.” He laughs and turns to go.

“No, you don’t.” She turns as well, picking up where she left off.

“Have fun cleaning!” He calls over his shoulder.

“Have fun looking!” She calls back.

Business continues as normal. Ibrahim collects cash. Bobby runs back and forth with water. Rocco is useless. For a moment, Bobby swears he has fallen asleep in his chair, he looks so spaced out. The girls continue to clean with the help of Lucas. Though they initially thought having a dude wash the cars would ruin their image, it actually boosts it. To the point where girls are rolling in too. And at one point a very enthusiastic group of guys in some very short shorts. Bobby isn’t surprised, considering Lucas’ face looks like it was chiseled from marble by Michelangelo himself. Don’t even get him started on his physique. 

As the day starts to dwindle down, so do the amount of customers. Lottie looks completely fed up around the time the beach starts to clear up. Hope drapes herself over Lucas, whining her legs don’t work any more and Marisol sits in one of the deck chairs under the gazebo, soaking her feet in some buckets.

Poppy is a hot and bothered grumpy mess, huffing as she gathers up sponges and organises the cleaning supplies. Ibrahim has a focused frown on his face, money shifting in his hands as he counts and places the notes on one of the tables in neat piles. Everyone is gathered around him by the time he’s finished.

“What’s the haul?” Lucas asks, wrapping an arm around Hope’s shoulders.

Ibrahim pouts and looks down at the money in front of him. The hesitation in his demeanour tells them before he’s even said anything out loud. 

“Just over three hundred.” Ibrahim finally says. 

“Three.... _Hundred_.” Lotties repeats, looking completely defeated and exhausted. Her make-up has partially melted away, half of one of her eyebrows is missing. She doesn’t even get in this state after swimming in the ocean.

“Three hundred.” Ibrahim sighs.

“At least it’s something.” Poppy says.

“Yeah, great,” Rocco rolls his eyes. “So we only have to do this for another…” He counts on his fingers. “Fifty or so more days until we reach the goal. We’ll be long gone by then.”

“I’m just _saying_ it’s a start.” Poppy replies, angry crease between her eyebrows. “I’m not expecting to make thousands of pounds from a car wash.”

“So, why are we even doing it in the first place?” Rocco asks.

“Oh, pipe down mate.” Lucas quickly asserts. “You did dick today.”

“I’m just saying, if we know we’re not going to make the money, why even bother?” Rocco answers.

“Because, we want to help Stirling.” Poppy turns to him. “Why even show up if you’re not interested in helping?”

Rocco’s jaw clenches. “No, _you_ want to help Stirling -”

“Rocco, is now really the time?” Marisol asks.

“What’s wrong with that?” Poppy asks, completely steamrolling over Marisol’s question.

“I didn’t say anything’s wrong with it -”

“Then why bring it up?”

Bobby feels a hot wave of anger wash over him. God, Rocco really makes it easy to hate him. Bobby’s just about to open his mouth, no idea what words will come out, but he’s going to say something nevertheless. But, Lottie beats him to it.

“Guys, guys -” Lottie interrupts, raising her voice. She pinches the bridge of her nose like the conversation is literally disgusting her. “Please. I am so exhausted. We all had a really long day, there is literally no reason to argue -”

“I am not arguing!” Poppy defends as Rocco says. “There is no argument!”

“ _Guys._ ” Lottie snaps, even louder. “Please. Enough.”

Everyone stays quiet for a few seconds, letting the air settle.

“I’m going home.” Marisol says, standing up from her makeshift foot-spa. “I’m gonna keel over if I don’t lie down soon.”

“Agreed.” Lottie sighs.

“Ditto.” Ibrahim nods.

“Same. Might even die if I don’t eat soon.” Hope agrees and slides her hand into Lucas’. “See you guys on Monday?” She asks.

The group disperses pretty quickly, goodbyes barely being muttered as they split off in different directions. Ibrahim gathers and takes the money for safe keeping. Rocco hesitates leaving, about to approach Poppy but she spins on her heel and goes back to organising the remaining mess, stacking buckets and folding chairs a little more forcefully than needed. He decides against it and leaves too without looking back, leaving Bobby alone with her.

When everyone is out of sight, Bobby carefully approaches her and takes one of her hands to halt what she’s doing. An annoyed twinge hits her face.

“Bobby -”

“Let’s just go.” He interrupts.

“I have to clean up.”

“No, you don’t. It’ll be here tomorrow.” He grabs the bucket she’s about to reach for and pushes it out of her way. “You’ve done enough.”

“Bobby,” She wrestles her hand out of his grip. “I’m serious. I’ll feel better if I just sort this all out.” She goes to grab the bucket again but he moves it out of her reach.

“No, you won’t.” He says.

“ _Yes,_ I will.” Again she goes to grab the bucket. Again he moves it.

He laughs when she goes for it again. And again. Soon enough they both look like idiots doing some kind of choreography with a bucket between them on the side of the road. Poppy is desperately trying not to laugh. She gives up and brushes her fly away curls out of her face.

“You’re such a dick.” She sighs.

“I know.” He grins and finally stands still. 

With a smile he offers the bucket out to her. She is suspicious at first, raising an eyebrow at him but goes to take it in the end. And again he quickly moves it out of her reach, making him crack up even more than before. Poppy swats at his arm as he continues to laugh, walking over to where the rest of the stack is and setting it on top.

“C’mon!” He bounces back over to her. “Let’s goooo. Lemme walk you home.”

She doesn’t look convinced at first, looking miserable and annoyed but still kinda laughing at him all at once. Finally she nods and they start walking together.

He doesn’t take her home straight away, much to her annoyance. He drags her to the gelato shop they first went to the day before his birthday instead. Luckily, he makes it in just before closing, literally barging inside just as someone is about to flip over their closure sign in the door. Poppy grumbles and waits outside for him as he gets ice-cream, only for him to emerge with one cone. Her expression softens when he holds it out to her. A two-scoop Cherry Garcia ice-cream cone.

“For the lady.” He says, smiling.

She blinks at him, looking down at the cone in his hand before she tentatively takes it. Her face is a little hard to read, but he wasn't expecting her to look… well, kind of upset.

“Bobby,” She frowns. “You didn’t have to -”

“I know.” He shrugs. “I wanted to. Plus, you need help chilling out.”

She laughs. “Awful joke.”

“Made you laugh though didn’t it?” He asks, feeling smug. That’s all that matters in the scheme of things.

Poppy just laughs again, flipping him off.

They walk through the main high-street of the town. Bobby weaves them in and out of tourists as Poppy happily eats her cone. The evening crowd is out now, ping-ponging between the main bars and restaurants in the area. Despite the time, it was never dead around here unless you were out in the early hours of the morning. The hustle and bustle never seemed to come to a halt.

“Agh!” Poppy stops in her tracks and lifts her hand to suck up melted ice-cream dribbling down her fingers. 

It’s still hot out, even with the sun almost completely set. Her ice-cream is melting too fast for her to keep up. She makes a left into an empty walkway between some shops and Bobby follows, putting them under some shade. She switches the cone to her other hand, sucking off the remaining melted mess off her thumb. But, it only starts to drip onto her other hand too. 

And, yes, before you ask, Bobby has been staring the whole time. Of course he has been staring this whole time.

Though, when she catches his eye he feels the slightest bit guilty. She doesn’t think anything of it, trying to clean herself up and holds it out to him.

“You want some before the sun obliterates it all?” Her laugh is light and airy. "Tastes good."

Bobby’s eyes flick down to the cone in her hand and up to her face again, where she’s sucking her fingers. Yes. Yes, he is certain it does taste very good. He’s struck with another ‘fuck it’ moment, it makes his heart race. He doesn’t know what’s come over him the past day or so but he kinda likes it. 

He takes a step forward, carefully plucking the cone from her fingers not to get any mess on himself and throws it to the side. Poppy looks so offended as the ice-cream makes a sad squelching sound as it hits the pavement.

“Bobby, what the fuck -”

Her words barely register, a rush in him blocking out whatever is around. He softly grips her jaw and kisses her. She’s just as sweet as always, but now tasting like sugary cream, bitter dark chocolate and sharp cherry. 

She doesn’t kiss back for a split second, very aware they are out in the open and still trying to keep this thing between them on the downlow. She’s definitely thrown off, Bobby isn’t normally this forward. Ever. But, he doesn’t seem to care, teasing and sucking on her sticky lips, definitely getting a taste. 

His sigh against her mouth seems to snap her out of her panic and ease into it. He kisses her as feverishly as he’s done in private those handful of times, his frustration and need at the surface. Luckily, the little walkway they’re in shields them from the main paths that hold the mass of people who could see them. Her hands grip his locs and in the next second his back is up against the wall of the building next to them.

He can hear the stone path crunch under their shoes and the rough brick wall isn’t exactly amazing against his skull, but Poppy’s hands are fluttering all down his front, his chest, over his shoulders, fingers catching on the hem of his shirt, around his belly. Everywhere. 

They’re whimpering and gasping like there’s nothing better they’ve ever tasted. And for Bobby it’s true. He gives her everything she wants, sucks on her tongue, bites her lips, grabs her hips so they’re pressed together. They’re necking like… well… teenagers. The thought makes him want to laugh. When Poppy pulls away, he realises he must've actually done so.

“What?” She asks, breathless but grinning.

“Nothing,” He shakes his head, smiling too. “It’s nothing. Sorry.” He gasps. “I don’t know why I’m saying sorry.”

Poppy leans forward and whispers against his lips. “Then don’t.” Her gaze is fixed on his mouth before she leans up to kiss him again.

He laughs again, making her giggle too. It’s the sweetest sound, even better mixed with her heavy breathing and sighs as he pulls her closer and kisses her again. He cups her face, feeling her jaw moving under his hands as their lips slide against each other. It’s so dirty knowing she’s working for it as hard as he is. The cherry ice-cream taste is gone now, but that doesn’t stop him. He wants more. Always more with her.

Dizzy off of her doesn't do it justice. He can barely hear himself think, the only focus being her lit up body against his. He grips her bare waist, soft hot skin under his fingers. She presses her body seamlessly against his and he arches his hips, grinding against her. Oh god, it’s so delicious. A moan gets caught in her throat, before rushing out and bouncing against his lips. Fuck yes. He wants more of that.

But, something clicks in her mind then, making her stiffen up.

“Bobby,” She murmurs against him, an echo of a laugh behind it. “Not here -”

Poppy pulls away again, making him groan and chase after her lips. She laughs and rests a hand on his chest, steadying herself. The redness of her lips silently taunts him, along with the flush trickling down her neck and on top of her breasts, leading to her nipples poking at the fabric of her bikini top. She takes a deep breath and Bobby unashamedly watches her chest heave. 

His whole body pulses, so wound up. God, it's so unfair. He slides his hands down her back and into the back pockets of her shorts to keep them pressed together. She looks embarrassed for a second but it’s replaced with a wicked smirk, feeling how wound up he actually is. 

She can’t help herself, about to lean up to kiss him again when a loud clanging noise snaps them out of the moment. A backdoor to one of the shops is opened forcefully and hits the wall, scaring them both. For fucks sake. Never a moment for themselves.

Quickly, Poppy steps away from him and, much to Bobby’s disappointment, crosses her arms over her chest to hide her current state. But, seeing that she still has a ruddy face and swollen lips makes his belly flip. An old man totters out the open doors, garbage bags in each hand. He struggles for a second as he hauls a heavier one behind him.

Immediately, Poppy straightens up and walks over, not evening thinking about it. She offers him a smile and they exchange a few words in spanish that Bobby doesn’t understand. 

She takes the heavier bag from the old man and carries it over the dumpster on the other side of the alley. She continues to smile as he throws his bags away too before they exchange a short goodbye. The door back into the store closes behind him with a faint click.

“That was nice of you.” Bobby says as she walks back over.

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “No biggie.” She says and rubs her hands together to get off any grime. She sighs again, their moment is clearly ashes now. “C’mon -” She nods over to the exit of the alley. “Let’s go.”

Bobby looks down at the now completely melted and wilted ice-cream on the floor, feeling the same way. Ugh.

"You owe me." He pushes himself off the wall and follows her down the path back to the main street.

She laughs loudly and rolls her eyes. "Sure I do."

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOOO
> 
> this was a reeaally fun one to write. idk. i just really liked it!! hope you guys enjoyed it!!
> 
> s/o to my CC gal pals, i love you all sooo much. thank you for always hyping me up 💓
> 
> if you are not already, come and join myself and other litg ff writers & artists on the r/LITGFanFiction subreddit!! it's dedicated to all things creative, brainstorming and general ff discussion!
> 
> kudos, comments, shouting at me on twitter @l0singface or tumblr @losingface is always highly appreciated! sometimes i draw things and post them! 
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!


	25. Teenage Fever

**

  
  


Waking up on Sunday morning was heavenly.

Poppy had kissed Bobby awake gently, over and over until he started to kiss back, still a little disorientated and bleary with sleep.

He had spent the night, not having argued when she insisted. It was very innocent. They ordered a pizza which was promptly devoured and watched only the first 35 minutes of _Back to The Future_ before Poppy passed out next to him on the sofa, exhausted from the day. He had to gently shake her awake before dragging her down the hall and get ready for bed.

Falling asleep together was one thing but waking up to her felt like a godsend. Just to be in her arms was the best thing he's ever experienced in a long time. Ever, actually.

Her hair was still damp, smelling like spring and she faintly tasted like toothpaste, obviously having been up a little while before him. After waking him, she had moved to get up again but Bobby dragged her back into bed wanting more kisses, making her laugh. Their giggles mixed into each other, happy to just be together.

They’re completely relaxed as they melted into each other's embrace. Nothing is expected of them today. No responsibilities, no early morning interruptions, no keeping their hands to themselves. It finally feels like they have some freedom. 

The window above the bed is cracked open slightly, the faint far away sound of church bells from a morning service can be heard and the thin linen curtains sway with the breeze filtering in. The trees outside dance from side to side with the wind, sun winking in and out of existence between the leaves, sparkling like glitter. Sunspots twinkle around the room and the surprisingly cool air dances over their overheated skin where they’re tangled up together like vines on the bed, the duvet shoved off the side.

They were careful at first. Soft, slow kisses and gentle hands roamed over clothes, very aware that this was something very new. Everytime she broke away to catch her breath it made his chest ache, not wanting to put distance between themselves. His fingers wandered over her, learning where her hips began to dip and caressing the soft skin of her arms. She did the same, hands slowly roaming over his chest and stomach, learning the planes and bumps of him underneath his clothes. 

He’s kissed before, sure. But, he didn't know kissing could be like this, just taking your time to learn and explore. Poppy was so patient, drawing out every touch and every time their lips meet. He kept his cool for the most part, his heart a noticeable but soft thumping in his chest.

But, now… now it feels like his whole body is buzzing. Waves of pleasure crash over him as shocks of lightning tap at his spine. He swears the church bells in the distance have become increasingly louder, not realising it’s his pulse in his ears clanging loud and remorseless. 

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing, it feels like they’ve cycled from the morning to the evening and back to the morning again. The reigns have slackened and thoughtfulness has slipped, both of them restless and almost panting into the hot, lingering kisses. Everything just feels so good. 

They’re lying on their sides, Poppy’s legs wrapped around him and their hips rocking together gently, surging heat and pressure building between them. He’s trying to force himself to keep some control, not wanting to forcefully arch his hips into hers. He can’t deny how good this feels, gasping when sparks ignite and fizzle away again when she eases up. She lightly drags her nails down to the small of his back under his shirt, sending beyond pleasant tremors through him, right down to the bone.

Poppy loves sex and the affection that comes with it. And she knows she's good. Her english is like the Queen’s but her kiss is perfect french. She’s never really made it a secret, completely unashamed and normally quite bold. But, where she is experienced and confident, Bobby is very much a virgin but incredibly enthusiastic and eager to learn as much as he can. Every one of her touches feels like magic, undoing him in ways that he didn't realise existed.

Poppy pulls away again, her eyes lit up with heat before kissing along his jaw, the little excuse for stubble he has scraping against her puffy lips. She dips her tongue against the base of his throat, nipping and running her tongue over his hot skin before kissing upwards. They learn very quickly that Bobby loves getting kissed just below his Adam's apple. 

His hips jolt as she sucks the skin into her mouth, in time with an embarrassing whine leaving his throat. They both freeze. And then start cracking up laughing. She does it again feeling his dick jump against her. Jesus Christ, she makes him crazy.

Bobby groans, sliding his fingers into her damp hair and pulling it back to expose the line of her neck, wanting a taste too. She gasps as he tightens his grip in her hair and dips down to kiss her neck, sucking and licking her skin down to the dip of her collarbone.

“Bobby,” She murmurs and he hums against her skin, his fingers tightening in her hair again. He loves hearing her say his name. Especially now. "We have to get up,” She whispers, keeping her moans at the back of her throat.

“What?” His head jerks back and he looks at her in the eyes, almost black. She can’t help but laugh at the displeasure sitting on his features. “Why?” He asks, but it gets muffled as Poppy surges towards him for a kiss again.

“Car wash.” She speaks against his lips.

"Car wash?"

"Yeah, car wash."

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He mumbles, feeling her grin against him.

“You don’t?” She giggles between insistent kisses.

“No.” He can’t stop kissing her, wondering why he’s even talking and letting it get in the way. “Remind me?” He asks with a smile.

“How could you forget?” She teases and laughs again, louder this time. “The money.” Her voice pitches lower, feeling his hands settle on her waist. “For Stirling.” Her breath hitches. “Remember?”

He hums and sucks on her bottom lip before whispering. “No.” as he slides his hands around her to pull her closer before quickly flipping her onto her back.

Her surprised squeak echoes in the room before dissolving into a laugh, making him crack up too.

"Oh!" She huffs with a grin and blinks up at him. "You have moves now too?"

"I think I have just that one move." He laughs.

Without any thought she reaches up, twining her arms around his neck and pulling him down to capture his lips again. His thoughts fizzle away and pulses of light dance behind his eyes. It’s urgent and needy, her hands trailing up under his shirt as he settles between her legs, setting off that agonisingly good pressure again.

He’s hungry for it. All of it. All of her. Her nails dig into his back as he grinds down on her and groans into the kiss, met with one of her own. Just as he’s about to ease off, her legs wrap tightly around him again, rocking her hips up and urging him on silently. Holy fuck, it’s so good. He can’t stop kissing her over and over again, his body taut with lust and desperation. The reigns are completely slack now and forgotten about, thoughtfulness out the window.

Focused, Bobby’s kisses begin to trail down, scraping his teeth and easing the minor sting with his tongue over her jaw and neck. She’s intoxicating, he swears he’ll never get enough. Her soft whines and moans only egg him on more. He’s pretty sure he almost loses it completely when her hand flies down to find his and rests it on her chest to cup her breast. A whimper falls out of her as his thumb skims over her nipple underneath the fabric of her shirt. When he does it again her legs tighten around him, still working her hips against his in a steady rhythm.

“Oh, fuck,” She breathes out.

His greed overflows as he hears those words escape her, lust slamming into him. He rushes up to kiss her again, feeling lost without their lips against each other. And she kisses him back, hungrier than before.

With no hesitation, his hands slide down to the hem of her shirt, fingers toying with the edge for a second before dipping under. He pushes it up, exposing her tummy, her skin golden in the morning rays beaming through the window. She arches into his touch, sighing as his hands explore new naked skin. He does it again, pushing it higher and the tips of his fingers meet the edge of her breasts. 

But, this time she goes rigid under him and her lips stop moving against his. Just like when she stiffened up and stopped kissing him in the alleyway yesterday. Shit. Quickly, he pulls away and sits back on his legs.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“What? Nothing’s wrong.” She replies but her words don’t match the discomfort in her eyes.

“You tensed.”

“I didn’t.”

“If I made you uncomfortable - I didn’t mean to, I -”

“No, it’s -” She sighs, exasperated, and gives him a small frown. “It’s not you. It's nothing to do with that.”

“Are you sure?” He asks softly.

Poppy doesn’t answer straight away and they fall into a silence. Bobby didn’t realise how hard they’re both panting until it’s the only sound in the room. She looks so disheveled, it's maddening. Red face, wild curls alongside shiny swollen lips. One strap of her top has fallen off her shoulder, exposing even more skin that Bobby wants to just bite down on.

He’s not always thought of himself as someone who can read people but, there’s a flash of timidness in her eyes, even with how huge her pupils are right now. She puts the strap of her top back in place and crosses her arms in front of her chest. He pushes his thoughts down, waiting for her to answer.

Poppy scrapes her lip between her teeth. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid.” She shakes her head, looking down at the bed.

“I won’t think it’s stupid. You can tell me.” Bobby reaches over to tuck a curl behind her ear.

A few long seconds pass before she looks at him, all disheveled himself and looking totally blissed out. His tongue was literally in her mouth a minute ago and now he is waiting patiently to talk about her feelings. A complete 180 that she has no idea how to handle. 

Something unfamiliar settles over her, foreign ground that she has never explored before. She has no idea what to think of it. With a deep breath, she tentatively takes the first step.

“Um. It's...” She fiddles with the hem of her shirt and pulls it back down, subconsciously trying to get rid of the blazing pink spreading out on her face. "Everything is moving so…"

"Fast?" He finishes for her quietly.

"Yeah. Like, normally I'm so -" She flaps her hands about, not sure how to explain. "But… I just. I dunno. I don't want this to be a sprint to the finish line, y'know? I don’t want it to be like all the other times I’ve… uh -"

She shakes her head at herself, nose scrunching up. Before Bobby can say something she pipes up again.

"You're so… you make me dizzy, like, in a good way. I literally can't stop thinking about grabbing you or kissing you. But, I want to be patient and not rush. I know that sounds ridiculous considering those things I've told you. I just want this to be right." Her eyes glaze over with a wave of sadness. "I don't know what's wrong with me -"

"Hey, hey," He shuffles closer and gently shushes her, kissing her lips to stop her trickling words. "There's nothing wrong with you." He whispers. "We can take it slow."

She kisses him back, once and then twice before sitting up. She rests her back up against the headboard and he moves to sit next to her. She stares down at her lap, not sure how else to explain. But, she soldiers on.

“I’m not upset because of you.” She says and turns to look at him. Her stare is firm and open. Genuine. “I just want to be good. For now.” She offers a small smile.

“We can be good.” Bobby smiles back, but it’s replaced with concern a second later. “But… still. I’m sorry I rushed. Whatever pace you want, I want.”

“You melt.” She smirks and he rolls his eyes.

“I’m being serious!”

“I know.”

“You like me being a melt.” He grins at her and they both laugh, the tension thawing away quickly.

“I do.” She smiles and leans over to give him a peck on the cheek.

Bobby reaches up automatically, ready to cup her face and pull her in for a kiss again but hesitates. She grins and climbs over to sit in his lap. 

“We can still kiss though.” She murmurs, leaning in a little bit closer.

Bobby mirrors her grin, looking completely dumbfounded and eager. It makes her laugh before softly cupping his face and capturing him in a tender kiss again.

"Wait -" She pulls away just as their lips begin to part. Bobby holds back a disappointed groan. She looks around, eyes landing on her clock. "We should really get going, though. They're gonna be wondering where I am -"

And just like that she is up and running again, onto the next thing like it’s nothing. Always on the move, this one. She flings herself off the bed and starts rummaging through her dresser, looking for something appropriate, or in this case inappropriate, to wear today. Bobby watches as she paces around the room, gathering things and tying her hair up on her head.

“I don’t think anyone’s going to be doing the car wash today, considering how it ended yesterday...” Bobby says, eyes following her.

“But, what if they are?” She answers, not turning to look at him.

“Poppy,” He sighs and drums his fingers on his leg. He tries to sound concerned but it comes off more as annoyed. “I think they can survive without you for one day.”

“Well, there’s still a lot of money to make.”

“I know, but -”

“It was my idea to help Stirling in the first place. I should be there.”

“I get that.” He says softly. “But… you should just… I don’t know, relax. Just for today.”

“But -”

“ _Just_ for today.” Bobby repeats. She doesn’t look in the right mindset to be doing anything strenuous right now. 

Poppy turns to face him, the look on her face a little quizzical. Bobby silently raises his eyebrows at her and she frowns at him. So, he juts his bottom lip out and bats his eyelashes at her.

“Don’t use those pop-y eyes against me!” She says, trying to look annoyed and failing. “You know I like them.”

“Exactly,” He says. “I gotta use the artillery that I have. You can’t resist ‘em.”

Poppy doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she’s fighting a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“ _Just for today._ ” He repeats again. “You need to relax.”

“Bobby -”

“Bloody hell, do I have to spell it out for you? It’s Sunday. It’s God’s day!”

“You’re so annoying.” She throws one of her hair ties at him.

“Aye. Don’t make me bat my eyelashes again.”

Poppy has to stop herself from laughing and shakes her head at him.

“Fine.” She sighs. “But, get out of bed at least.” She says.

“What? It’s the weekend. You should be getting back into bed.” He groans and slumps down. 

“Well, if you don’t want me to go to the beach then you gotta compromise!” She laughs.

“It’s not even ten o’clock!”

“Get up.”

“No!”

“Get uuup!” She sing-songs.

Bobby groans and flops onto his front, snatching a pillow and putting it on his head to block her out. Her soft laugh tinkles around the room, making him smile to himself.

“What’s that James Brown song?” He hears her say to herself.

“What?” His laugh is muffled by the bedding.

In the next moment she breaks out in an appalling rendition of James Browns ‘Get Up Offa That Thing’. It’s very loud. It’s very out of tune. Oh, so out of tune. Bobby has never been so amused, shocked and annoyed at the same time, clutching the pillow on his head even harder to block out the noise of her voice. Next thing he knows she’s at the side of the bed, grabbing the pillow off of him and singing even louder. It would’ve been kind of cute hadn’t she started hitting him with it too. 

His first instinct is to grab it, but she starts moving it out of his reach like he did to her with the bucket the other day. Her giggles start to filter through, breaking up her god awful vocals. Bobby is somewhat relieved and starts laughing as she tries to hold them in and continues to abuse his ears. Wanting to dissipate her singing completely, he grabs her by the waist, digs his fingers just below her ribs and drags her back onto the bed. 

Finally, her singing stops and is replaced with his favourite sound instead - loud shrieks of laughter. He keeps her in his inescapable clutches, watching her go as red in the face as before, but this time she’s practically yelling, with tears in the corners of her eyes. By the time she’s begging for him to ease up he’s exhausted himself too and lets go of her.

Poppy grins at him as she calms down, shimmying closer so their noses are almost touching and her laboured breaths hit his cheek. She reaches over and runs her fingers over his lips, tracing the curves and dips. She does it again when he smiles, his lips a different shape for her to learn.

It’s so… intimate, even more so than what they were doing literally ten minutes ago, he doesn’t know what to think. His mind goes blank and the emotions inside him swell and take their place, telling him exactly how he feels instead. Wind-stirred waves rage inside of his chest, depths like the ocean. He feels the same rush in him like earlier, but this time it’s scarier, like he’s falling into water. Like, he’s drowning.

“Your plan worked.” She mumbles.

“What?” He asks, quiet enough that she can’t hear the tremor in his voice.

“Your plan.” She laughs softly. “I’m back in bed, aren’t I?”

He laughs and nods, not sure what else to say. He doesn’t protest when she gets up again this time. She takes her time, stretching her arms and sighing before pushing herself up. He lies there, watching her leisurely move about the room and neatly folding away her clothes, unaware of his daydream gaze. 

There’s an overwhelming feeling of wanting to be close to her. To tell her everything he’s ever known. The drowning sensation gets worse, his lungs tight and on fire.

He wants to tell her about his life and ask her even more questions about her own. He wants to listen to her favourite songs, learn the words and hear her voice as she sings along. He wants to be the one to crack jokes to make her tears fizzle away. He wants to be the one she rolls her eyes at when he’s being annoying. He wants to hold her hand in the sunshine. He wants to kiss her goodnight. 

He wants all of her and everything that comes with it.

  
  


**

  
  


Monday comes around too quickly for Bobby’s liking. One minute he’s floating on the sweet bliss of the weekend and the next he is tumbling back in reality’s arms. 

He certainly woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Cold and dark. Lonely. Begrudgingly, he had to go home at some point. Poppy was practically forcing him out the door on Sunday evening, trying to get him to go home to not cause any alarm in his mother. 

Bobby knew she was right, he wasn’t sure he could use the sleepover excuse two nights in a row. Plus, wearing the same clothes from yesterday was kinda gross. Poppy offered him a pair of booty shorts but he replied saying he wasn’t sure he could pull them off, making her cackle.

But, that didn’t stop him from making it harder than it needed to be, making his body go limp as Poppy was hugging him goodbye. He draped himself all over her, making her break out in hysterics for what felt like the 100th time today as he became dead weight and refused to move.

“But, you’ll be alone if I leave.” He groaned.

“I’m always alone here,” She huffed, trying to push at his chest but he’s not budging. “You need to go _home._ ”

“I don’t want toooo.” He whined.

Poppy laughed and then grunted as he let his legs go limp too and was fully supporting his weight on her. 

“ _Jesus!_ ” She sighed heavily, trying to hold him up. “I’m going to drop you!” She tries to warn.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.” He sounded so smug, it only spurred Poppy on.

Without really thinking much of it, she let go of him and quickly stepped to the side. Bobby yelled so loud a light in a neighbouring house turned on after he decked it into the pavement. Their ruckus didn’t stop there, Poppy’s full, rich laugh reaching volumes he’d never heard before until that day and definitely waking up more neighbours. 

God, it really was the best sound. Not even his favourite music compared to that laugh anymore. The bumps and scrapes are worth it.

Bobby absently smooths over one of the grazes on his knees during the beginning of their lunch break, his belly doing somersaults just remembering how hard Poppy was laughing. He tries his best not to look over at her so much in plain sight, but he can’t help it. She draws him in at every possible moment, even when she is not aware of it. 

He’s so unfocused today, mind stretching in every which-way direction, each thought somehow landing back to Poppy. He’s not even sure how he made it through drills this morning, he doesn’t remember a single thing that Caroline said. He looks to the ocean and thinks about surfing with her. If he looks up to the tower he can smell the surf wax she used on his dreads. The clouds are streaky today, just how she likes them. He looks at the sand and can see her lounging by his side. He looks up to the sun. _Poppy._

He feels like he’s drowning all over again. But, this time it’s warm and inviting, light spilling into his pores and filling him up with hot golden sunshine. He tries to shake the feeling, looking over to where Chelsea and Noah are seated next to him in a heated discussion, both of them so adamant about something to notice Bobby’s wandering gaze.

“I’m just saying -”

"You just wanna use the pool."

"Who wouldn't want to use a pool?"

“And to take advantage of a free house.”

“Who wouldn’t want to take advantage of a free house?” Noah laughs.

“We already did that for Bobby’s birthday!” Chelsea laughs. “And look how that turned out.”

Bobby perks up hearing his name. “What?” He asks, his head whipping towards them.

“My house.” Chelsea rolls her eyes but is smiling. “It got trashed, remember?”

“Yeah.” Bobby frowns. “Y’know… it was weirdly clean again when I made it downstairs the next morning.”

“Oh, Poppy helped me clean.” Chelsea shrugs.

Bobby stills and his eyes dart over to her. “She did?” 

“That’s nice of her.” Noah adds but his face is far from a smile. It’s more skeptical.

“ _Heeey guys!_ ” A voice interrupts them.

They all whip around to see Priya strolling up to them. She’s beaming, her hair bouncing in her ponytail and arms swinging happily. Where Bobby’s face drops slightly, Noah’s lights up. Chelsea gives her a grin too, waving her over.

Small talk bounces between them all. Well, everyone except for Bobby. He sits there with his hands in his lap, listening to them spout whatever comes to mind and banter lightly with each other. Priya’s face is warm and inviting, like nothing in the world is wrong. Bobby has no idea how she is doing it. He figures after what she said to him on the pier that nothing really is wrong in her world any more.

Luckily things don’t become too awkward. Gary and Ibrahim join them too, then Lucas and Hope. Soon enough Bobby is just observing conversation. Though what he doesn’t expect to see is some stolen glances and cheeky smiles. Noah is fully paying attention to Priya, banter and jokes like rapid fire. And she swings back with her own, both of them falling into a volley. It looks… familiar. Too familiar.

And when they’re not at the forefront of conversation, they’re barely listening to the others, either stealing glances and small smiles or leaning close to whisper in the others ear and giggling at whatever the other has said. Bobby can’t believe it. And it’s all happening right in front of him. He has no idea what to think. It’s not like he can say anything either.

A gentle tap on the shoulder drags Bobby away from his thoughts. He shields his eyes from the sun, resting his hand against his brow as he looks up to see a smiling Poppy. The golden light behind her gifts her a faint halo, illuminating all the perfect parts of her. His heart flips, not expecting to speak to her much today, let alone be approached by her first.

“Robert.” She says and smiles.

“Penelope.” He smiles back.

“You wanna come surfing with us?” She points to where Lottie and Marisol are walking to the water with boards. “Thought we’d get a quick sesh in before lunch ends.”

“Uh,” He looks over to where the others are occupied talking. “Really? You want me to join?”

“Yeah,” She shrugs. “Why not.” 

Bobby grins before turning to the others. “You guys mind if I -”

“Sure, bub. Go ahead.” Chelsea smiles then directs a bigger grin at Poppy who returns it. 

Priya herself is drawn out of the conversation, her smile faltering as she watches Bobby playfully nudge Poppy in the ribs before shooting off to the boards lined up by the tower. Poppy laughs, sprinting after him, staying close on his heels. Their laughter is loud and obvious, bouncing along the sand.

Hope laughs loudly at something Ibrahim says and Gary rolls his eyes before going into a rant. Lucas gives Hope a side-eyed glance and they giggle. They’re too occupied in their own little circle to hear what Priya asks.

“Since when has Bobby surfed?” She turns to Noah.

“Oh,” Her question catches Noah a little off guard. She’s staring at him expectantly and he scratches the back of his head. “I think him and Poppy practise before training.” 

“Before training?” Priya blinks at him, her smile disappearing completely.

“Yeah, I know right? Crazy.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I think they get up mad early to catch the first waves.”

Chelsea frowns and Noah looks away from her.

“Yeah… that’s -” Priya’s eyes dart over to where Poppy has just let out an explosive laugh and Bobby is looking extremely happy with himself. Quickly, she is reminded of when Bobby’s alarm clock went off in the early hours of the morning. “Pretty crazy.” She murmurs.

Next to them, Lucas murmurs something about being too hot sitting out in the sun and stands up. He stretches out his arms before offering a hand out to Hope. A true gentleman at work. She lightly places her hand in his and he carefully hauls her up as she dusts sand off the back of her legs.

“I think it was only a handful of times.” Chelsea adds, trying to reassure Priya. Her intense stare flicks over to Noah and she widens her eyes at him. “I don’t think they do it anymore.”

Priya just nods, twisting around to watch Bobby and Poppy head for the ocean with boards tucked under their arms. Before she can open her mouth again, Gary interrupts.

“Anybody hungry?” He asks. “Rahim says there’s a couple of dope new food trucks around the corner, setting up for San Fermín. We wanna check them out real quick.”

“Does one of ‘em sell hotdogs?” Chelsea teases and gives Rahim a smile.

“No, they don't.” He laughs.

“I’m down!” Noah pipes up, eyes wide from the mention of food.

“Noah, you literally just scoffed down a sandwich.” Chelsea points to the empty brown bag next to him. 

Noah simply shrugs. “I’m a growing boy.”

“I’ll join too.” Priya forces a smile.

Gary turns to Chelsea with an expectant look on his face but she shakes her head and declines. The rest of them get to their feet, leaving Chelsea on the sand. Gary shoots her a little sorry smile without anyone noticing. Just as they start walking, she lets out a defeated sigh and shakes her head before getting up and catching up to them.

“Noah!” She says, loud enough for him to stop in his tracks and turn around. “Can I talk to you? It’ll be just a second.”

Noah looks unsure but gives her a nod. Priya continues to walk with the guys as Noah splits off from the group, giving him a concerned look over her shoulder. He follows Chelsea leading them over to the lifeguard tower and stands under the decking above, giving them as much privacy as you can get on this open beach.

Before Chelsea speaks, she takes a deep breath to let her thoughts settle before they come out in a huge jumbled mess.

“Dude.” She says firmly. “Seriously?”

Noah’s face falls. “What?”

“You telling Priya about Bobby’s early morning surfing!”

“She asked a question.” Noah frowns. “I answered it honestly.”

“Maybe you should take Priya’s feelings into consideration before you start spouting stuff about Poppy. Especially if Bobby is involved. I think she’s still upset.”

“Upset? She looks fine to me.” Noah looks over to where Priya is now just a far away dot at the exit of the beach.

Chelsea sighs. The kind of sigh where she might as well say how dumb he is outloud. 

“She must be upset, still. Did you not see the look on her face?” She hesitates for a second, unsure whether to bring it up but it comes out anyways. “Poppy told me she heard them arguing at his birthday party. I didn’t even know she was there.”

Noah tenses. “Me neither. I found her in the bathroom downstairs.”

“You saw her?” Chelsea’s eyes widen but she has to lower her voice, not to gain any attention. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“She was a mess.” Noah takes a step back and crosses his arm, all of a sudden on the defense. “I don’t think she wanted anyone knowing about it.”

Chelsea sighs. “Fuck. She probably saw them.”

“Yeah.” He nods, obviously knowing. “Yeah, probably.”

“Do you know what they argued about?”

“No idea.” He genuinely doesn’t. “I took her upstairs and we talked for a bit. Then she went to the bathroom and never came back. I passed out waiting for her and then next thing I knew it was the morning.”

“You talked? About what?” Chelsea questions.

“Just. Y’know.” He shrugs. “We talked about their break-up.”

“You what?” Chelsea’s voice gets a little louder.

Just as Noah is about to open his mouth, Bobby’s laugh cuts through the air. He’s walking up to the tower with Poppy by his side, soaked from the water with smiles plastered on both their faces. Chelsea gives him a wave as he gets closer and Bobby spots them immediately. Not to cause suspicion he jogs over to say hi. Poppy gives Chelsea a small smile too before walking up the ramp to the tower.

“Hey,” The giddiness on Bobby’s face slips off when he sees them. “What’s up?”

Chelsea looks to Noah without saying anything. Noah keeps his mouth shut too, not giving her the satisfaction of breaking. Chelsea sighs.

“You guys need to talk.” She murmurs and shuffles past them both, not looking back.

Bobby immediately frowns, watching her walk down the beach, tenser than he’s ever seen her. Chelsea isn’t normally one to get riled up. Not in an angry fashion, anyways. So, with caution, he looks over to Noah who is watching Chelsea walk away too. The look on his face reads more resentful than upset like Bobby had imagined. Part of Bobby begins to boil, wondering what could make Noah look at her like that. And what could’ve possibly happened to make her leave them.

“What’s going on?” Bobby asks, concern laced in his voice.

Noah doesn’t waste any time and replies almost instantly. “Chelsea said you and Priya had an argument on your birthday.”

First, Bobby tenses, not expecting that to come up at all. But he’s also taken aback, confused that he didn’t hear it from Priya herself. And, also, just what the fuck in general.

“How does Chelsea know that?” Bobby frowns.

“Does it matter? Why were you guys arguing? She hasn’t told me anything.”

Bobby frowns. “Why? Because she tells you things now?” He forcefully slots the board under his arm into the sand to stand it up.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“When did you guys get so close?”

“Why do you care?” Noah shoots back.

“Fuck me.” Bobby rolls his eyes, annoyed. “Can we stop asking questions?”

What the fuck is going on right now. Out of everyone he never expected to butt heads with Noah. 

“You just asked another one.” Noah says. Normally, Bobby would laugh but he scowls instead.

“Mate,” Bobby says. “I’m serious. If you’re so close to Priya now you can just ask her yourself. I’m pretty sure she wants me to rot dead after what happened. She basically exploded.”

“After what happened?”

Bobby shakes his head. Fuck. “It’s nothing.” He tries.

Noah’s face falls. “Did you actually do something with Poppy?”

Bobby sighs. “It’s not like that.”

“But… something did happen?” Noah glares at him.

“I really don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

Noah just stares at him. Neither of them have any idea what to say next. Behind him, Bobby can hear others returning back from town, the end of their lunch break nearing. Above, Poppy’s footsteps on the decking rattle. They both stay quiet as she makes her way down to the sand and joins the others. Without thinking, Bobby turns to watch her for a second and turns back to Noah.

“You’re together aren’t you.” Noah says quietly, meeting Bobby’s eyes.

Bobby doesn’t say anything but clearly the look on his face gives it away. Fuck, he’s been dreading this. He shouldn’t be feeling guilty. He’s happy now. He’s more than happy. But, everything feels so new these days he’s not even sure what he can describe these feelings as.

“You need to tell Priya.” Noah states. “Face to face.”

“We’re not telling anyone yet.” Bobby says. “She doesn’t want anyone to know. And, to be honest, neither do I.”

“Because you know it’s going to end up in a shit-storm?” Noah says, keeping his stare on him.

They’re interrupted by the sound of Caroline’s whistle harshly slicing through the air. Noah begins walking over, but pauses when he’s by Bobby’s side.

“You need to tell her.” He says. “Before someone else does.”

There’s a beat of silence between them, Noah’s words heavy in the air before sinking in deep. He leaves Bobby standing by the tower, making his way back to the group. Bobby turns, watching as people start to gather where Caroline is standing with her hands on her hips, poised and ready for the rest of the day. 

Bobby makes his way over too, not wanting to be the last one as Caroline always makes a fuss over latecomers. Chelsea gives him a hopeful smile from where she’s standing and he tries to return it but he knows he must look miserable from the way her eyebrows screw together. 

Normally, he would go join her or Noah. But, he finds himself walking straight over to Poppy and stands by her side. Like a beacon finding its home, he feels safe again. He doesn’t say anything and neither does she, but her stance changes and a glimmer of joy sets over her face. Bobby feels a million times better, but it doesn’t seem to help the annoyed look he apparently has on his face.

Poppy leans toward him slightly. “You alright?” She asks quietly.

“Peachy.” Bobby nods.

“Ew. You never say that.” She laughs, but still looks worried. She asks again. “You sure you’re okay?”

He looks over to her, met with her sweet face. She looks so concerned, lips in a pout and line between her brows. Why, god, why is she so lovely? If he could, he’d lean down now and kiss her a hundred times in front of everyone. A thousand times. Indefinitely.

“Honestly, I’m fine.” He lies and nods. “I’m fine.”

“Okay.” She nods affirmatively, still a little suspicious. She leans over again and lowers her voice, even quieter than before. “You wanna get food later?”

Bobby huffs out a laugh. “We just had lunch.” He stares down at her and their eyes meet.

“I know,” She puts on her best pout and grabs her tummy. “But, I’m always thinking of food.”

Bobby just laughs again, making her grin.

Silently, he rejoices in her for a second, his worries are suddenly gone and all he can see is a warm glow and a toothy grin. This feeling... he can’t explain it.

Whatever sensation that hit him yesterday feels almost insignificant now. Instead of waves there is now a storm, restless and ready to conquer anything. Their eyes are locked for a second and he can feel himself slip off the edge into nothing but the water below, ready to drown again. But, this time the impact doesn’t come. He just keeps falling.

Falling and falling and falling.

Fuck. It hits him, finally. He lets out a shaky breath as she looks away.

He’s falling.

He's falling quick and hard.

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wassup 🤭
> 
> things r getting spicy.
> 
> to my cc gals, i love love loooove you all, oh my gosh. thank you for being the best and feeding me 💓
> 
> if you are not already, come and join myself and other litg ff writers & artists on the r/LITGFanFiction subreddit!! it's dedicated to all things creative, brainstorming and general ff discussion!
> 
> kudos, comments, shouting at me on twitter @l0singface or tumblr @losingface is always highly appreciated! sometimes i draw things and post them!
> 
> thank you so much for reading!! 💓


	26. Heat Wave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 🚫 viewer discretion advised! (not for wees)

**

  
  


“You are not seriously suggesting that?”

“I’m just saying -”

“You’re crazy. You’re _skits_.”

“I am not skits!” Bobby laughs.

“Robocop would never win against Terminator. Never.” Poppy says, gesturing wildly with her hands, riled up. “Never, ever, _ever._ ”

“But, have you seen Robocop?”

“No, but -”

“Then you can’t argue it!” Bobby cackles with laughter. “You have no idea what Robocop can do.”

“But you know what the Terminator can do. That should give you your answer already! The dude is a freaking _cyborg assassin._ Who was _sent back in time_. _To kill_.” Poppy argues, shaking her head at him.

Bobby just laughs and turns his attention back to the TV _,_ where _Terminator_ continues to play out on a low volume. They’re sitting on the couch with half empty boxes of chinese food between them in the small hours of Thursday morning. The balcony doors are open to let some air in, it’s still ridiculously hot tonight. The crickets are chirping loudly from the long grass outside. 

Bobby is barely paying attention to the film. Not because he’s seen it before but because he can’t stop staring. He smiles to himself and it almost becomes a chuckle, watching as Poppy absently stares at the TV and some grease from the chow mein she’s inhaling sticks to her chin.

She's a little hot and bothered. Her shirt smelling like day-old sweat and her hair frizzing up from the humidity, split ends peeking out from the bun she’s had it tied up in all day. She catches him looking over at her after maybe the 5th time.

“What?” She asks.

“Nothing.” Bobby shakes his head.

Poppy doesn't buy it for a second, settling the food container she's holding into her lap.

"What?" She asks again.

"Nothing." He answers. Again.

“ _What?”_

“ _Nothing.”_

“You’re staring at me.” Poppy frowns, reaching out for a napkin to wipe the grease on her face, but he grabs one first to hand to her.

And, she’s right, Bobby will give her that. He _is_ staring at her and it’s making her feel… something. He simply shrugs, smiling like he knows a secret and looking back to the TV. She chucks a cushion at him, which he sees just in time and bats down to the floor, laughing.

"Tell me!" She whines.

He sighs and finally turns to meet her eyes. She looks expectant, a little smile on her lips, knowing he’s going to make a stupid joke or something. But, he doesn’t.

“You’re pretty, that’s all.” He simply says.

For a moment, Poppy just looks at him, her smile gone. Totally shocked. No come back on her tongue. She feels blood rush up to her neck and ears, trying to ignore it.

But, then it’s like her brain kicks into gear again and she wrinkles her nose at him, flipping him off before stuffing more noodles into her mouth and looking back to the film. She has no idea when it got okay for him to start saying stuff like that. But, it’s been happening more and more recently.

He’s found himself staring. A lot. And listening out for her. Thinking about her. She is an intrusion in his mind that he gladly welcomes. It was always the little things that set it off. Like when she fiddled with her ear piercings when she’s in thought or the funny way she brushed her teeth in circles. He’d stay quiet when she had to leave the room, falling in love with the way her steps sounded on the wooden floor. Every silence in between felt like heartache. 

The last few days or so have been a bit of a haze for Bobby. The best kind though. Endless days of beautiful hot sun, the cold ocean and Poppy by his side. Attempting conversation with Noah recently was a lost cause, Priya is now avoiding him completely and Chelsea always seemed distracted, her attention always somewhere else. 

He’s found himself spending the night at Poppy's place the past few nights. He now has a toothbrush and spare underwear here, just 'cause. He can tell his mother is the tiniest bit suspicious, but it’s hard to care when he’s spending time with his favourite person right now. 

Beth isn’t stupid. She knows the signs, considering she basically did the same thing in her youth when she snuck out to meet Bobby's father. And the fact that Bobby is nowhere near as stealthy when it comes to sneaking out his bedroom window and climbing down the side of the house. He's just a touch on the clumsy side. And loud.

The evening walks never really felt real, like every step was cushioned by a cloud instead of slamming into concrete. And by the time he got to her place he was practically floating. She opened the door with a blinding grin and heat washed over him like the daytime sun did.

They often talk ‘till late, on the sofa, out on the balcony or in bed, the thick heat in the air sometimes making it impossible to sleep. They would talk about anything and everything, though the one common thing they’ve been discussing lately is Stirling. And there is of course lots of kissing. Lots and _lots_ of kissing. What else would teenagers do?

Their first real kiss feels like forever ago, and the next hundred after that, but it still catches him by surprise that they can actually do this.

She'll just plop herself in his lap and kiss him. Just because she can. Or, he'll stop mid-conversation to quickly capture her lips, only for them to end up still kissing a while later, completely breathless and riled up, conversation totally forgotten. They'll exhaust themselves until one of them has to drag the other to bed before they crash.

 _Holy shit_ , seems to be his most frequent thought these days. Bobby can’t resist pausing right before their lips meet sometimes, to simply breathe the air between them and revel in her company. Every time the distance closed between them he swears he’s never been happier.

Sometimes, if Bobby stares hard enough, her skin looks blue in the moonlight streaming in through the windows. When they are able to drift off, they sleep without the covers, fan on the ceiling whirring to keep them from boiling alive.

Bobby is absently fanning himself by the time the film credits roll around, pinching his shirt and trying to keep it from sticking his tacky skin. Poppy silently gets up, gathering all the empty boxes and food containers to take them to the kitchen. He listens as she shuffles about, throwing rubbish away and washing her hands at the sink. 

He frowns when it goes quiet behind him, until he screams bloody murder as she sneaks up and places her freezing soaked hands against his neck and down the collar of his shirt. The water running down his back feels like icicles.

“Cold!” He shouts. “ _Cold, cold, cold!”_

Poppy doesn’t let up, making him giggle like a little girl until he has to grab her wrists and force her off of him.

“Wimp.” She says as she walks around to sit on the couch. She places the back of her hand on her forehead with a content sigh. “It’s refreshing.”

“It’s _cold_ is what it is.”

“You get in the sea almost everyday! That’s cold!”

“Not all the time.”

“Wimp.” She says again.

Bobby raises his middle finger at her and she silently replies with her own.

He purses his lips and tilts his head, thinking to himself for a moment. Those early morning surf sessions were mostly on the chilly side, the sun having not been up long enough to heat up the water. Though, with her he never felt the chill. 

“When was the last time you went surfing?” He asks.

“Oh.” She scratches her head. “I don’t know. Over a week ago? Maybe two? Before your birthday.”

“D'ya wanna go surfing tomorrow morning?”

“Um. I dunno. I -” Suddenly she looks unsure and shakes her head. “I’m not really feeling up to it.”

“Oh. No, it’s okay. I was just wondering -”

“Sorry.” She sighs.

“Don’t be sorry.” He smiles, shuffling closer to take her hand. “We have plenty of time to go later.”

“Mmm,” She grins at him. “I dunno. You’re still a little rusty. Might take me up until the end of summer to get you half decent.” She teases.

“Fuck you.” He laughs.

Poppy gives him a smug smile, resting her head against the back of the sofa. Bobby waits for her to continue talking but her smile fades as she stares into nothing ahead. He gives her hand a faint squeeze and she gives one back, just as loving. Though, the look on her face doesn’t match.

“You okay?” Bobby asks quietly.

“Stirling taught me, y’know.” She murmurs.

“What?”

“Stirling.” She sighs and looks over at him. “He taught me how to surf.”

“Really?” He moves closer again, sitting up and genuinely curious.

“Yeah.” She grins. “God. He was a dick.”

At 14 years old Poppy met Stirling.

The year was 1985. It was a late Tuesday afternoon in the middle of July.

The sun was setting and the beach crowd was thinning out for the evening. Poppy was bored out of her mind and walking down the strip, eyeing up anything that could give her an ounce of a distraction. Nothing that should have grabbed her attention did. Kids were swarming the street, separated from their families, playing on crane games or stuffing their faces with whatever sugary treat they could buy.

But, she wasn’t interested in any of that. Her curiosity got the best of her as she watched a bunch of late-teens clad in red matching swimwear exit the beach. ‘Lifeguard’ was plastered on the front of one of their swimsuits. They were loud and boisterous and Poppy couldn’t seem to take her attention away from them as they passed by.

“All’s I’m saying is it’s gonna be a mad one. Like, an absolute rager. Mason’s gettin’ kegs. I’m spinnin’ decks. Levi’s bringing the gash -”

“ _Tim!_ ” The short blonde girl walking next to him hits him firmly on the arm. “Don’t refer to women as gash. That’s gross.”

“ _Ow!_ Jen! It’s not gross.” Tim frowned, then looked over to another guy walking to his left. “Is it gross?”

“Kinda gross.” The other guy replied and nodded.

“ _Thank_ you, Rohan.” Jen answered.

“Oh,” Tim nodded. “My bad, Jen. Anyways, as I was saying -”

Tim continued to talk, his stride almost becoming a bounce from how enthusiastic he was getting. Poppy watched their backs as they continued to walk down the street until they disappeared around a corner and headed into town. 

For whatever reason, this whole lifeguard thing seemed to pull her in. They seemed… fun. And it instantly drew her in. An indescribable gravity. She walked towards a white wooden structure on the beach from where they came. It was quite big. A ramp on the side led up to a wide decking that wrapped around a hut. Some surfboards were stuck in the sand just below the railing where a few towels were gently waving in the breeze, drying out in the dimming sun.

Slowly, she made her way up the ramp, keeping her eyes out on the ocean where the pink of the sky was bumping against the cool tones of the water. The door to the hut was closed but that didn’t put her off. She jiggled the handle to find it was already open and cautiously looked around before stepping inside.

It’s quite spacious. There were racks of beach and diving equipment lining the walls. On her right hand side there is a desk with a rickety chair in front of it. On the wall above hangs pictures of newspaper clippings. She didn’t bother to read them, but they all included photos of the same man. Big smile, a lot of medals, high praise in the headlines.

Proudly, a line of surfboards sat by the door. She moved over to them and stared before poking one. 

"Hey!" 

Jesus. Poppy startled, her hand hitting one of the surfboards and sending them tumbling in a domino fashion. They crashed against each other and hit the floor with a loud bang, each one sounding more thunderous than the last. She whipped around to see a man standing in the doorway, his face hidden by a baseball cap and sunglasses. He was scratching at his moustache and staring at her. 

“You can’t snoop in here.” He said. “This isn’t for pedestrians. You need to leave.”

“Who’s it for?” Poppy asked.

He barged past her and began to pick up the surfboards, stacking them neatly against the wall again.

“What does it look like?” He huffed, pointing to the obvious ‘Lifeguard Tower’ decal on the glass of the door.

“I could be a lifeguard.” She said.

“Sure you could.” He replied and turned to look at her. “You look about twelve years old.”

“I’m fourteen.”

“Oh, whoop-de-doo.” He held up his hands mockingly and moved over to his desk. “Like it makes all the difference.”

“You’re kind of mean.”

“Well, you’re kind of annoying.”

“Okay, well, you’re kind of a dick.” Poppy scowled.

The man turned to face her again and instead of frowning at her he laughed. She wasn’t paying attention though, stepping further inside to inspect what else was lying about. He watched her pick up a diver’s mask and then move over to poke at the oxygens tanks.

“Why are you in here?” He asked, scratching at his chin.

“Looked interesting.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged.

“You have any interest in being a lifeguard?” He asked softly.

Poppy shrugged again, like she wasn’t interested. He cocked his head at her, silently trying to probe a more serious answer out of her but she didn’t give one. He sighed and searched the desk riddled with papers before turning back to face her and holding one out for her.

“Sign up.” He said.

“What?” She stepped closer and took the paper from his hands.

“Junior lifeguard programme.” He tapped at it with his finger. “You’re old enough for that. Just.”

“Is it hard?”

“It’s as hard as you make it.” He simply answered.

She stared down at the paper where some names were already filling the page and back up at him. He had his arms crossed but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, features hidden behind his cap and glasses. Without another word she moved over to the desk and grabbed a pen before scribbling her name down. She held it out for him and he took it with a small smile.

“Poppy.” He read her name. “You don’t have a last name?”

“Do you need to know my last name?” 

He laughed. “No. I suppose I don’t.”

“Well, there’s your answer.” She said and headed for the door to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

“Tomorrow?” She whipped around.

“Yeah, tomorrow.” He nodded. “Bright and early. It starts at seven.”

She stared at him with wide eyes. “In the _morning?_ ”

“ _Yes._ In the _morning.”_ He mocked her tone. “Now, shoo, before you ask anymore questions.”

Just as she began to stomp down the ramp, he called after her.

“And don’t be late! I hate it when you’re late!”

The next summer, after she had turned 15, Poppy finally had her first taste of the surf life.

She was sat up in the tower, watching Lottie and Marisol walk to the water with her head in her palm and a frown playing on her lips.

“What are you still doing here?” Stirling asked as he walked up the ramp. “Sessions finished for today.”

“Yeah, I know.” Poppy shot back. “I’m just watching.” She nodded in front of her.

Stirling followed her eye line, where Lottie and Marisol were now getting into the water. He stared for a minute or so before glancing back over at Poppy. She had a sort of wistful and confused look on her face. Envious. He could see her eyes following their movements as they paddled out and rode the waves.

“Why don’t you go join them?”

“I don’t know how to surf.”

“Lifeguard that can’t surf.” He jokingly tutted and shook his head. “Shameful.”

“You can surf right?” She asked.

“Uh. Yeah, a little.”

“Can you teach me?”

Stirling frowned. “Can you not get someone else to?”

“What?”

“I’m not exactly interested in a baby-sitting gig.” Stirling added, trying to reinforce his point.

“Dick.” She mumbled, turning away from him again.

“Baby.” He muttered under his breath.

Looking back to the water, her expression had softened. She looked so in awe, like she was dreaming with her eyes open. The roar of the waves were obvious and every time one of the girls out on the water let out a woop or holler of laughter, Stirling felt a wave of his own. He wasn’t sure if it was guilt or annoyance, but either way he didn't like it.

Damn it. Stirling internally kicked himself before the words left him.

“Five o’clock.” He said, keeping the irritation in his tone to a minimum.

“Huh?” Poppy’s head jerked to look at him.

“For surfing. Five o’clock. Here,” He points to the deck under them. “Before training tomorrow.”

Poppy sits up. “Really? You wanna teach me?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to. I _will_ teach you. If it gets that stupid frown off your face.” He shook his head and crossed his arms.

She smiled so hard for the rest of the day it looked like she had a hanger in her mouth.

The lessons were rigorous. Stirling didn’t have time for bullshit and wasn't very forgiving. But, he was a good teacher. Every time she wiped out, he made her catch another wave until her arms were aching and legs feeling like jelly from paddling too hard. And even with the aches and pains he made her do it again. The lessons continued for the rest of the summer, until she was practically as good as he was.

It was like she could read the water, the rhythm of the waves became markers of time and she understood the different swells in the water and when the bigger ones were approaching. She savoured the salty air as she rode waves of a lifetime, much more dangerous than anyone else was attempting. But, when she came rushing out of the barrel before the curl crashed into itself, her smile was huge. Satisfied. Ecstatic. 

It was good. It gave her a routine and hobby to fall into, instead of mindlessly walking around town to avoid being at home and finding ways to get in trouble.

The summer months were always the best. Magaluf actually had some _character_ , y’know. It was always busy, albeit some of the tourists were annoying, but it made the town feel more alive. Through the programme she had actually met people her age and for the first time since moving here felt included in something. They would meet up after hours or on the weekend to hangout or find a random house party.

But, the off months were harder. Going from seeing mates everyday to absolutely nothing hit quite hard. Harder than Poppy was capable of seeing.

Sure, she’d still go surf in the mornings, but that only took up so much time. Plus, once the crowds started filling up the beach all she wanted to do was leave. She did not envy any of the actual on-duty lifeguards.

She’d often find herself in town, working the magic of her innocent smile. Most days she’d stop by Marisol’s father’s restaurant. It was always better when Marisol was there, having an actual friend to talk to. But, in the times when she wasn’t, Poppy would loiter around the back door talking to the chefs that were on a smoke break or flirting with the busboys her age and coaxing them into swiping some free food.

Other times she’d be in and out of shops, exercising her sticky fingers. She stole things because, well, she could. And that the growing strain in her relationship with her mother wasn’t exactly helping on the financial side. When she turned 17 her mother had semi-moved out of the house, her excuse being she thought it would be easier to run her resort if she were there almost 24/7. Not that her relationship with her own daughter was crumbling and she had no idea what to do. She’d rather run than reconcile.

Poppy despised the resort, a place to harbour and reap the rewards of absolute strangers for only a quarter of the year. She couldn’t deny that it hurt, watching her only parental figure put so much love, care and money into something else. So, like any child with something to prove her rebellious streak ramped up quick.

It was only ever little things she took. Like, a pack of gum or a carton of cigarettes or batteries. When she started to become recognisable, she made friends with the kiosk or shop owners, putting on the mask of their most friendly and loyal customer. It got to the point where she knew people in town by name, how many kids they have, where they grew up etc. She was “Good ol Poppy,” completely trustworthy. That was her. And over the years she would reap the rewards, receiving free goods from people who were no longer strangers but friends.

But, one time when she got too big for her boots, she was nabbed for swiping an expensive picture frame out of an old antique store. She had no idea why she went for it. She just wanted to see if she could. Too embarrassed to call her mother, she called the only other person she could think of.

With her head in her hands, she waited outside on the pavement, where she could hear the shopkeeper shout rapid-fire spanish at Stirling who was bumbling through his own. He apologised for what had left like the 100th time before he stepped outside. Poppy was growing more anxious by the second. Stirling didn’t say a word until he fished for his cigarettes in his pocket and lit one.

“Seriously?” He said. “Stealing?”

Poppy got up immediately and started walking in the direction of home. He started walking after her, grumbling incoherent things under his breath.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” He asked.

“I don’t go to school.” She answered, not looking back at him.

“You steal anything else today?” He caught up to her, so they were walking side by side.

“No.” She shot back, still not looking at him.

“Your backpack weighing you down says otherwise.” He said.

Poppy stopped and finally turned to look at him. Silently, he held out a hand and gestured for her bag. She didn’t argue, for once, slid it off her arms and handed it over to him. He zipped open the bag and stared down into it. He stared for quite a while actually, it was kind of concerning. Poppy had no idea what to say. Instead of looking disappointed… he smiled. He reached into the bag and pulled something out.

“What the fuck is this?” He grinned and laughed as he held up a little hawaiin bobble figure. “I love it.”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged and started laughing too, so taken aback from his reaction. “Got it from one of the stalls on the pier.”

“It’s awesome!” He gave it a little shake, making it dance.

“You think?”

“Yeah!”

“Do you want it?”

Stirling contemplated for a second. “You serious?”

“Yeah.” She nodded and shrugged. “I’m not gonna do anything with it.”

“Sick.” He grinned and pocketed it.

Without another word he zipped her bag back up and held it out to her. She was confused at first, but eventually took it out of his hand and slung it on her back again.

“I’m not going to lecture you.” He said.

“Then don’t.”

“ _But -”_ He held out his hands. “You shouldn’t steal.”

“I know that.” She rolled her eyes.

“Good. Then you should stop doing it.” He picked his cigarette out between his lips and flicked the ash into the air. “Why didn’t you call your mum?”

“I didn’t want to.”

“Well. You should. Next time.”

“There won’t be a next time -”

“I’m just saying if there _is_. I’m not gonna be here forever, y’know.”

He didn’t explain further and Poppy wasn’t sure if there was anything else to say either. 

“Thank you.” Poppy sighed.

“Don’t thank me.” He murmured as he turned to go. “Just don’t do it again. Or, if you do, just don’t get caught next time.”

Poppy simply rolled her eyes and smiled before waving goodbye, silently thankful that this wasn’t dragged out any more. Of course she took his advice. The latter advice, of course. Stirling didn’t seem to mind too much as she started swiping him cigarettes every now and then. 

Yeah, Stirling was a dick. Yes, he’s strict and yes he’s a little bit weird. But, for some reason there was a teen tiny piece of him that seemed to care. He’s not a significant part of her life but, in this ever changing place he was a constant, keeping her grounded and not completely flying off the rails. She didn’t know what she would do without him.

And, even now she still doesn’t know what she’d do if she were to lose him. Through the scowls and the constant annoyance there was never any judgement. Stirling may be an idiot, but he understood her. In some weird way. Maybe, like a father would. So, the very idea of him disappearing was sending her into a small panic. She can’t lose someone again. _Not again._

Trying to make light of it, Bobby joking says “He’s still a dick,” and laughs. 

Poppy chuckles too but her heart isn’t in it as normal. The concern on her face doesn’t go away like he had hoped. Maybe jokes aren’t the way to go.

“I’m sure he’s going to be fine.” Bobby fixates on the fraying hem of her shirt sleeve. “And, like he said, if things get - _tough_ \- then he’s going to leave.”

“I know. But, he shouldn’t have to leave.”

“I mean, like, for his safety he should. If what he’s actually suggesting is real, then -”

“I know. I know.” She cuts him off. “But, I just -” She rolls her eyes and pulls her hand away from his as she struggles to find the right words. “I don’t know. He just shouldn’t have to go.”

"You don't want him to leave, do you?" Bobby questions. It sounds so loud in the quiet room.

Poppy stays facing away from him when she mutters a quiet "No."

Poppy's fists tighten, tension at its peak like a stretched out rubber band. But, instead of an outburst her shoulders slump and she turns to face him again. She doesn't look upset like he would expect her to be.

“People always leave.” She adds, sounding exhausted all of a sudden.

“I’m not leaving.” He says, staring at her.

“But, you will.” Her gaze darts down to the sofa cushion she’s picking at. “Eventually.”

He swallows and it just about makes it past the lump in his throat. He shuffles closer and strokes the back of his index finger over her chin. She stares at him, brown eyes darting back and forth looking into his, like autumn leaves dancing in the wind.

“I’m not going anywhere,” He says and pauses, having to quickly deal with the reality of the situation. “For now, at least.”

Poppy doesn't say anything else. She reaches up and strokes over his chin too, her smile so rich and sweet he feels his insides melt, like taffy on a hot day. He takes her wrist and plants a quick kiss on the tips of her fingers before letting her hand drop into her lap.

“Your turn to pick a film.” She says, quickly changing conversation.

“Ooh!” Bobby sits up energised, despite the time. He taps his chin before breaking out in a shit eating grin. “Robocop?”

Poppy doesn’t hesitate to throw another cushion at him.

They don’t watch Robocop. The heat is still as intense as it was in the day, both of them have given up sleeping for the time being, knowing they’re going to be exhausted by the time they have to get up for training. By 3am they’re strewn across the sofa, both in a daze and lit up by the glowing TV in front of them. 

Poppy's settled on top of him, her head tucked under his chin on his chest, snug between his legs. They’re both melting from the heat, sweat sliding between where their exposed skin is touching, but refuse to peel away from each other. Every time they try, the loss of contact just begs them to wrap up together again.

Neither of them are really paying attention to what's on screen. TV at this hour mostly consists of bad infomercials to laugh at. Bobby is drowsing, eyes closed but listening to whatever is playing out in front of them. Poppy is gently stroking at his temple, moving one of his dreads back into place before tracing the shell of his ear with her finger. Idle, but comfortable. Intimate. 

Though he’s relaxed, there is little niggling at the back of his mind, tapping away and trying to come to the forefront. He hadn’t really thought about leaving. He knows that summer has to come to an end eventually, but he didn’t even think about having to leave Poppy.

He opens an eye to look at her to find she’s already looking at him. He doesn’t say anything - just smiles, still half-asleep, making her feel that something again. Taking a deep breath, He strokes a hand down her back, tugging down her shirt where it's riden up a little. She smiles at him and he smiles back. Something so simple shouldn't be sending his heart racing.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks quietly.

It’s a pretty simple question. With an even simpler answer. It shouldn’t throw Bobby off as much as it does, because these past few days there’s only been one thing on his mind.

“You.” He answers just as quiet.

It absolutely sounds like a line. He kind of wants to kick himself from how unbelievably cheesy it must come across. But, he can’t deny that is the truth and with her he only ever wants to be honest. He’d probably spill his guts to her if she clicked her fingers.

Poppy stares at him, sitting up and shuffling closer as his arms protectively wrap around her middle. They don’t kiss straight away, stuck in a little limbo. His dreads are flopping onto his forehead, a little longer than they used to be and now threatening to sit in front of his eyes. Her hands reach up and sweep them out of the way. Her gaze stays on his mouth before it lifts up to meet his eyes to study him. It only lasts for a split second but he feels himself heating up under her gaze.

For a second he thinks she’s leaning in for a kiss, but she keeps her parted lips against his and restrains herself from completely closing the gap. Her eyes sparkle, mischief on her mind. When Bobby inches forward she pulls back, but keeps their lips just barely touching.

“Tease.” He murmurs and smiles.

She laughs, not denying it. Whatever is happening right now, Bobby is absolutely buzzing. She always makes him feel lightheaded, unaware that she is currently feeling the exact same way. She can't tell if her knees are suddenly weak or if her body is telling her to drop down onto them on the floor and pull his shorts down too. Either way, she knows if it happens she won't be able to resist herself.

“You like it.” She whispers against him and sucks on his bottom lip. 

Poppy closes the gap for him and they both fall into it, it’s routine by now. Without breaking the kiss, she sits up fully and gently tightens her fingers in his hair, fingertips grazing over the shaved parts at the back of his head. 

She’s everywhere, overtaking his senses, eclipsing his light and throwing him into the dark. He can smell faint shampoo and her sweat from the day. Just from the light of the TV can he make out her face. The highpoints of her cheekbones and line of her nose glowing, everything else hidden in shadow. 

Their lips collide, over and over, cushiony and soft until it climbs into territory they’re beginning to become accustomed to. Just as Bobby begins to pull away she makes an irritated noise and grips his hair harder, keeping them pressed together. 

It escalates into tongues and teeth. It’s deep and it’s hot. Toe-curling. Mind-numbing. The way she keeps shifting in his lap makes him antsy, not sure whether to rest his hands on her or keep them on the sofa. He opts for gently placing them on her thighs. Soon they’re a tangle of limbs, arms bumping against each other and knees digging into sides, illuminated by the glow of the TV.

He knows she wants to take it slow. And if that means taking it at a snail's pace then so be it. But, the way she's sucking on his tongue and shoving her hips down onto his feels like they've got a heavy foot on the accelerator, with no intention to use the brakes.

She gasps as she breaks away, dipping down to lightly nip at the underside of his chin and down the juncture of his throat. She exhales a laugh as her lips ghost over his Adam’s apple, the anticipation of his favourite thing making him groan out loud, almost killing him with want. 

Everything’s dialled down to her soft touches and soft lips, so close to the energy thrumming just underneath his skin. She grabs his hands and places them on the curve of her hips, the fabric of her shorts as hot as her skin underneath.

“Poppy,” He grips her, trying to halt her movement. "Are you sure we should -"

“It’s fine. I want to.”

“But -”

"Over the clothes." She interrupts with a frustrated little grunt before rushing up to kiss him again.

The eagerness is an answer in itself too. She hums into his mouth as he grips her tighter, parting her lips and pulling her into him. She can’t resist it, rolling her body up against his so they’re pressed together fully. Her hands slipping away from his hair and grabbing at his shoulders feels like a little victory. It ignites the first flame in his belly.

Bobby doesn't waste a second before grabbing her glorious ass as she grinds down against the obvious new strain in his shorts. He winces and then gasps. Jesus. His cock aches, totally trapped, pointing up and flush against him. She can feel the heat of it and the heat of him all over her front and legs. 

He can feel her thighs tense and dig into his sides as he attaches his lips onto her jawline. He nips at where her skin is thin, close to the bone and makes her suck in a sharp breath. Poppy hides her face in the crook of his neck, sighing as they rock together. No. Not like this. He grabs a fistful of her hair and she moans as he gently tugs it back so she's looking at him.

She kisses him again, _so_ slowly, not even giving him a chance to breathe, trying to extend time for as long as she can. By the time she pulls away he is panting, face somehow even redder. 

They’re both lost in it, roaming hands and restrained moans. He traces his fingers over her chest, squeezing lightly. She starts to whine into his mouth, shivering against him as he gently tugs at the tips of her breasts through the fabric.

She finally pulls back to look at him again, sitting up fully. His cheeks are ruddy, dark as his lips. Even in the dark, she can see how wide his pupils are, glossy beneath his thick lashes. They’re quiet for a moment, their heavy breathing bouncing around the quiet room, until Poppy’s hitches in her throat as he grabs her hips again.

Her hands trail from his chest, scraping her nails down to his stomach. She digs in a little harder when she reaches a little exposed slither of skin between his shirt and shorts.

“Do you…” She begins to speak but her words get muddled. “You ever… uh, you ever… think about me?”

There’s no way he can use his voice to answer, he slows their movement, lowering his gaze down to her shoulder and nodding. Poppy doesn’t give him long before growing hungry for his lips again.

“What do you think about?” She asks into the kiss.

“You.” He pants. “And what you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He echoes. “Do you -” He groans as she nips on his lower lip. “Have you ever -”

“Yes,” She gasps, answering before he’s even finished. “All the time.”

Oh, god. Bobby really understands what it means to think with your cock now. Poppy grins as he moans, humming against his mouth as their hips keep rocking together, the cloth between them so hot it’s becoming almost painful. She plants one of her hands on the cushions above his head, giving herself more leverage to roll against him. Bobby chokes out a moan, shockwaves starting to build until they are taking over his whole body. 

_Yes, yes, yes_. He wants her and, god, she wants him too. More than she's willing to admit out loud. More than he'll ever know.

They kiss like they really are gonna fuck. They kiss _hard._ And they kiss _good_. Fluent in kissing like it’s a whole god damn language. His tongue silently tells her all the dirty things he wants and she gives it right back, silently admitting what they've held back for so long. And when he breaks away for air, just for a second, he murmurs some of those things out loud, barely aware of it.

_“I want you so bad, you taste so good, please, please tell me what you want,”_

It’s seamless, the kisses and words, melding together like it’s nothing. He feels like he’s diving in and out of water, gasping as soon as she pulls away, only to drown again when their lips crash together.

She shoves her hips down again and again, riding him hard through their clothing and catching him off-guard as he tries to kiss her again. She turns her face a fraction, pressing her lips against the softness of his cheek. Her panting breaths tickle against his burning skin, lighting up his body all over again. Shameless as always, the words begin to filter out of Poppy’s mouth.

“I want you, too.” She groans.

Bobby bites at her shoulder, sucking at the soft skin until a redness blooms. He does it again and again until he’s sure it’s bound to leave a mark.

"What do you think about?" He asks, rushed.

"You,” She moans. "In my mouth -"

Good _god._ Bobby grips her hips so hard he can feel her skin pinching underneath his fingers, earning a moan from them both. Bobby can’t stop himself from moaning into it, cock hot and hard between them, every thought fizzling out as soon as it tries to enter his mind.

" - and, inside of me," She continues unprompted.

Bobby's whole body shivers, hips bucking involuntary into her.

“D’you want that, Bobby?” She chokes out, miserably failing to keep her cool.

“Y-yes.” He moans, voice kiss-thick. “God, yes. What else -"

“I want," She pauses. "I wanna make you come -"

Fuck. The white light he’s blindly been chasing finally crashes into him, so hard he sees spots and sends him tumbling back into the black.

“ _Oh,_ god -”

Poppy _knows_ that sound.

Everything comes out at once - wheezes, moans, grunts. All of it. Poppy kisses him through it, trapping him in so many sensations at once as he comes. His hips buck and grind against her, no space between them, jerking her up. The sweat collected at his temple finally gives out, running down to his jaw and following the line of his neck, his crimson lips parted for his noises to escape into her pretty mouth. His eyes are loose for a second, eyelashes fluttering as it hits him.

He moans “Oh, _fuck_ -” so loud into her mouth, Poppy is almost driven to the edge herself.

All she can do is take it, the pinch of his fingers on her skin tightening until his whole body trembles from the force of it. She keeps her thighs tight around him and digs her fingers into his shoulders, keeping him pinned there and feeling his dick twitch against her until a dampness blooms. 

She falls down against him and he buries his face into her hair, groaning and shaking from the pleasure of the aftershocks. Poppy can’t move, can’t breathe, her eyebrows dragged all the way up to her hairline. She knows she’s good but she didn’t think she was that good.

“Christ, Bobby.” She whispers.

A rain of warm, soft kisses fall onto his face. Even now, when he’s barely aware of where he is, she showers him with affection. Soon, they become lethargic and lazy, alongside their breathing slowing and syncing up. The room is now silent except for the static on the TV and breeze outside rustling the trees.

Poppy sits up fully again, biting her lip to stop herself from grinning so much. Bobby covers his face with his hands and grunts when she wiggles her hips for a second.

"Don't look so happy with yourself." He mumbles, sounding dazed.

"Why not?" She giggles.

"You know why."

"I know," She snickers, playing with the hem of his shirt where some sweat has collected. "Good thing you have underwear here."

"Penelope, are you making fun of me?" Bobby drops his hands from his face and back onto her hips.

“Robert,” She feigns offence and places her hand on her chest. "I would never."

Traces of pink still sit on her cheeks and neck, filtering all the way down to her shoulders and arms. His hands on her hips trail up, following the curve of her waist and settle just below her ribs. He can’t think of a word beyond indecent. But, whatever it is, that’s exactly what she looks like. Her lips are begging to be kissed again and messy curls asking to be grabbed. His whole body aches for more, screaming at him to pull her back in. God, what he’d give to give her the same.

His hands drop again and he gives her hips a firm squeeze. Her eyes darken slightly and he watches her nostrils flare. Lightly, he drags his hands to the front of her shorts and begins to fiddle with the drawstrings.

“Don’t worry about me.” She laughs, gently taking hold of his wrists.

“Poppy -”

“These goods are not on the market yet.” She points to herself. “Business is not open.”

Bobby tries not to look too displeased, but he obviously does. So much in fact that it makes her burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh at me.” He lightly smacks her leg.

“I’m not!” She covers her mouth but it does nothing to muffle it. “Sorry -”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am!”

“You suck.” He laughs.

“No, I don’t.” She grins, leaning down to kiss him quickly. She lowers her voice before talking again. “Not yet, anyways.”

“Jesus Christ.” He groans, face rapidly going pink again.

Still laughing, she bounces on his lap one more time to make him wince before getting up and disappearing down the hallway. He sighs to himself, already feeling on edge from the loss of her. And that he's feeling pretty gross right now. A few minutes later, she returns wearing her pyjamas, holding a towel and waving his spare boxers like a little flag.

Bobby tries not to laugh and attempts a frown but it doesn’t work. She looks so damn pleased with herself, he gives her the satisfaction of a smile. He gets up and thanks her as he takes them before heading for the bathroom as she goes into her bedroom. Quickly, he cleans himself up, trying to not blush so much as he scrunches up his boxers into the towel. 

Her dreamy smile is waiting for him as he slides into bed next to her. She pulls him into her arms as soon as he’s close enough, peppering his face with light kisses. They’re minty and ice cold, the remnants of her toothpaste still tingling on her lips and now on his face. 

His thoughts begin to trickle again. First it feels like snowfall, flakes piling up on each other in the dead of night. But, the longer she holds him the more rapid they come, rolling over each other in quick succession like snow in an avalanche.

Finally, she plants a kiss on his lips and pulls away to look at him in the eyes. The chaos in his head eases, but the flutters in his chest are all the same. God, he has no idea what’s going on with him. As scary as it feels he wants more of it. Wants to get caught up in the snowstorm.

"Why do you always taste sweet?" She sighs against him, soft pants hitting his lips as she catches her breath.

"I think it’s the noodles." He deadpans.

Poppy breaks out in fits and punches his chest. It winds him slightly and she cackles harder as he makes a loud ‘oof’ sound. She’s jostling so much she accidentally kicks him in the shins too.

“Ow!”

“You’re an idiot.” She sighs as she calms down.

“I’m being serious!” He chuckles.

“I’m just gonna have to eat ya up then.” She grins.

Bobby’s heart pounds in his chest. “Is that a promise?”

“Mm. More than.” She whispers. 

She scrapes her teeth over his cheekbones and playfully bites his nose, the mood between them shifting down from the intensity of earlier to light-hearted. When she pulls away, he cups her face and uses his thumb to draw over her lips and chin. She grins as he does it again, reaching over to draw a line down his chin too.

“Wait,” He pulls back and blurts “I forgot to brush my teeth.”

Poppy snorts. “Ah, that explains it.” She watches him flail to get the covers off and then leap out of bed.

He knows she’s laughing at him but he can’t help but grin, elated from the sweet sound of her voice. It’s liquid gold pouring into his ears, filling him up with warmth and weighing him down in the best possible way. To drown in it would be an honour.

He smiles dumbly to himself as he walks out the room until her laughter drains away, just the remainder of her giggles floating through the air likes twinkling fragments of the sun.

He revels in it, no longer floating on clouds but gold dust. 

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii 🙈 things happened 🙈
> 
> this chapter hurt my brain aaahhh. sorry if it's not on par with everthing else, this was a struggle! might have to take a lil break after this chapter, i'm not sure yet, so we'll see!!
> 
> thank you to my favs, the cc gals, for being supportive and being some real ones. ily 💓
> 
> kudos, comments, shouting at me on twitter @l0singface or tumblr @losingface is always highly appreciated! sometimes i draw things and post them!
> 
> thank you for reading!!!!


	27. Caught Between The Tides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 🚫 viewer discretion advised! (not for wees)

**

  
  


Instead of sweet dreams and blissful sleep - or the occasional nightmare Bobby would sometimes endure about his favourite childhood enemy Gnashers - the night was full of gentle whispers and muffled giggling.

Sleep just couldn’t seem to grab Bobby. Or Poppy for that matter. It wasn’t the heat that kept them up, just that the reality in front of them was a lot better than any dream. Sleep seems so irrelevant, almost like it would be a waste of time for either of them.

It’s always so effortless with her, their chatter has always been some sort of verbal dance. Bobby lives for these moments. He's never had conversation like this, where the other makes you laugh so hard you can feel your lungs stop short for a second, unable to get air. She's so close their noses bump whenever she's shaking with laughter and even in the dark he can see the different strands of brown that sit in her eyes.

He doesn’t know how to describe the feeling. It’s a weird craze that lives inside of him, craving her company all the time. She understands him and knows him like they’ve been friends before they even met. Maybe even before either of their lifetimes in some weird alternate plane. It’s cliche but he doesn’t care. With her it’s all passion and without it’s misery. He’s willing to tread through the mud, knowing there’s a blooming flower waiting for him in the end.

When the laughter dies they wrap up together, content in their silence. They're dozing around 5am, the sun outside beginning to break from the horizon. Bobby's shuffled down slightly, his forehead resting against Poppy's chest with her arms tightly wrapped around him and their legs tangled together. Her fingers are absently stroking the back of his head. So soft. So slow. She tugs at one of his dreads and rolls it between her fingers before dropping it again.

They're not talking anymore. There's simply nothing else to say except for the obvious. 

Bobby can feel her heartbeat, a soft but strong thumping in his ears. She’s not nervous or afraid, just simply content. Everytime she shifts or sighs, a rush floats up through him, filling him with some kind of wonderful terrifying feeling. It happens over and over, like the familiar tides he sets his eyes on almost every morning.

One of these rushes is significant enough to make him look up at her, instantly catching her eye in the dark. They shine with a brightness and he can’t help but smile to himself, thinking of how gloomy Glasgow could do with some sunshine.

“What’re you smiling at?” She asks, so quietly.

“I can’t smile at you?” He pokes her arm.

He watches her lips stretch into a grin, his mind already placing their lips together. Before it's even registered she's kissing him. It’s slow and sweet, her hands dance over his back and arms, holding him close. Silently she demands more, every time their lips crash together she can't help but want beyond what he’s giving her. They kiss until they're lightheaded, both of them trapped in pure ecstasy.

She presses her thumb to the corner of his lips, making him open his mouth wider so she can kiss more of him, sliding her tongue next to his. Soon enough, the room is full of the telltales sounds of making out - slick lips and tongue, the faint click of teeth when they get lazy, the smack of their mouths when they have to pull apart for air.

"Sun's up." Bobby murmurs.

"Yeah," She sighs and ever so gently bites his lip. "We should get up too."

"Mhm. We should."

His hands around her waist grip harder, pulling her close until there's no space left between them. He can barely focus, his body reacting to her faster than his brain can fire out thoughts. The way she keeps wriggling and shivering against him, making small desperate noises against his lips sends his head in a spin like always.

"We should really get up." She whispers but even she doesn't believe it, continuing to kiss him.

"Yeah." He can't stop either. "Okay -" Another kiss. And another. "Let's get up."

Still they don't get up. Poppy can't control her grin.

“I’m serious.” She giggles.

“I know you are.” 

"You're a bad influence."

"I'm the bad influence?" He finally pulls away enough to look at her in the eyes.

Her pupils are completely blown. And Bobby knows now what kind of heat is sitting behind them. What could be unleashed.

"Yes," She laughs again and grins harder. "Terrible."

"I think you have me confused with yourself -"

She cuts him off, kissing him roughly. The sudden shift tells him exactly what she wants. Poppy shoves a leg between his, the slow sinful swivel of her hips sends that rush over him again, filled with desire and leaving him feeling exposed as it washes away.

He can feel her lips curl into a smile as he groans into her mouth. She knows exactly what she's doing and Bobby is just here for the ride. The rush of blood heading south leaves him feeling dizzy. He can already feel the tip of himself peeking out of the band of his boxers, pre-cum sliding onto his stomach. 

Their grinding quickly becomes feverish rocking hips, sighs turning into choked moans. The first flame quickly begins to devour his restraint. He's not going to last. They’re not even kissing anymore, slick lips desperately moving against each other, as eager hands begin to get under clothes and touch burning skin. But, his hands hesitate around her midriff, making hers freeze on the front of his underwear.

“You can touch me, it’s okay.” She encourages, out of breath.

“Yeah?” He asks. "You're sure?"

“I'm sure.” She smiles, laughing. “Can I touch you?” 

Frantically he nods, making her laugh even more. His greedy hands make their way under her top, learning that she is in fact not wearing a bra. Well, he knows she doesn't sleep with one. He always stared dumbly as she executed what looked like a magic trick when she took it off under her top. But, this was something new entirely.

Jesus, what did he ever do to deserve this. Bobby makes a small pained sound he is so turned on. Could she be any more perfect? But, he can feel the heat of her face from here, she looks so embarrassed for some reason. A tiny little secret has been spilled and she doesn't know what to do about it.

Bobby tries to ease her mood, pulling her close for a kiss and whispering "You're perfect." 

Poppy's hesitance melts away as their lips meet, like cotton candy against the heat of his tongue. “I’m not perfect.” She mumbles against him.

The kiss separates with a wet sound as he slowly slides her top up and ducks down for a taste. The softness of her skin hits his tongue, making him sigh before sucking and drawing her nipple into his mouth. Her whimpers spur him on, licking and biting her perfect skin and gently tugging the bud with his teeth. He settles a hand on her ribs to keep her still, but instead it only makes her jolt and giggle. When he digs his fingers in she does it again, laughing even more. Screw perfect. She’s beyond that.

Heavy breaths and giggles muffle the sound of her blindly shoving his boxers down. Bobby groans at the release of pressure, pulling off of her with a pop sound. She keeps her eyes on him as she licks her palm and slides her hand down his abdomen. Bobby sucks in a sharp breath and her eyebrows shoot up as she gets a hand around him.

“Oh. Uh -” She breathes. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Bobby repeats, panting.

“You’re, uh - just... different.”

Christ. That’s not what you wanna hear when a girl grabs your cock.

“Different?” He stammers.

“Yeah, to what I imagined.” She starts blushing furiously as she gives him a gentle squeeze, making him groan. “...Thicker.” She finally whispers, like a little secret.

“You… imagined it?” Bobby can't suppress his grin, looking completely dopey, but his body is so on edge. He can’t believe they’re chatting normally like her hand isn’t wrapped around him. "Did you think I had a pencil dick?"

“What? No!"

"Then, what?"

“You have a very noticeable outline when your trunks are wet, alright?” She huffs.

"You… you’ve been looking? You’ve been looking at _me?_ "

"Oh, please." She scoffs. "Like you never gawked at me when I got out the water."

Bobby goes to open his mouth but snaps it shut. Poppy laughs when he frowns to himself. There’s no argument here.

"I didn't gawk." He murmurs.

“A hard stare, then.” She laughs. “You were a pretty big fan of that skirt I wore on your birthday.”

Bobby laughs, embarrassed. “The tights were the real kicker.”

She laughs loud right in his face. “Yeah? You want me to wear them again?”

“Now?” He looks so excited.

“No, not now you dumby!” She can’t stop laughing. She gives him a slow pump and his whole body shivers as he groans. “You need to be more subtle. You never caught me looking.” She adds.

"And it still surprised you?" He pants.

"Being up close to the thing is a lot different." She frowns at him and glances down.

“You’ve already kinda seen it though." He jokes, face hot.

Poppy blinks at him. “It was in Priya's mouth! Plus, that was, like, for a split second! I’ve never ran so quickly in my life. I couldn’t handle it.”

“You’re handling it right now just fine.” He grins.

“Oh, har-har, you’re hilarious.” She presses her nose to his, grinning too. “Just kiss me, you idiot.”

Bobby slides his hand up to the nape of her neck, both of them smiling like morons as he pulls her in again. A whimper falls out of her mouth as he glides his hand up into her hair, pressing down lightly to massage her scalp. Her thighs tense around him when he gives it a little tug. When he does it again she bites his lip. God. One more pull. Poppy moans into his mouth, eyelashes fluttering.

She has to tear her lips away from him, her breath tickling against his wet lips. Her eyes search his own, figuring out her next move. He watches as her other hand slides beneath the waistband of her own shorts, making her bite her lip. She kisses him again, but they're light and unfocused, cut short when she moans softly against his mouth. Another tide crashes over him, this time sending shocks all throughout his body. God, he needs to hear that again. He wants to make her come so badly.

All thoughts stop dead when her fingers come back - wet and glistening. Fuck. She gently taps at his lips and without thought he sucks them into his mouth, met with the taste of her. Oh, god. It takes his brain a second to catch up, but, fuck. He moans from her taste alone.

He’s completely forgotten about her hand wrapped around him until she gives him another light squeeze. She starts to slowly jack him, trying to get back to the task at hand. Literally. Suddenly there’s only one desire, one wish, both knowing there’s a matter of time before they reach it. The knot in his belly is already there, ready to come undone. Her hand moves quicker, beginning to twist her wrist before flicking her thumb over the head of him, forcing a grunt out of him.

He gets lost in it. In her. She's everywhere. Her taste, her smell, her voice, her touch. His hands wander under her clothes, blindly learning her beauty as he sucks the sweetness off her fingers. Listening to the trembles in her voice and the way her breath hits his neck makes his heart flip. The heat between her legs grinding on his thigh only leaves him imagining how hot it is inside her. 

“Shit -- c'mon, Bobby.” She gasps. It rushes out of her lungs so quick, she barely realises she's said it.

Those initial flames are now uncontrollable, spreading quickly through him. It’s all happening too fast. Oh, God. She watches as his eyes roll back and becomes putty in her grip. She's barely set a rhythm as she jerks him faster when he starts coming like a madman into her hand and on himself, hips arching and mouth agape. Fuck. _Fuck._ It feels like his first time again, learning what his dick can do.

“Oh, fuck - oh, shit -” He moans around her fingers, eyes screwing shut.

His hands grip her so hard, trying to ground himself as he loses it. She slips her fingers out his mouth and kisses him, her hand working him through his climax. The last of his moans turn into gulping breaths, fanning out over her burning face. When he opens his eyes again she's staring right at him, dumbstruck.

 _Oh, god._ That was fast, way too fast -

“Jesus,” She gawks, peering down and back up, her glossy eyes darting between his. “You’re like a fire hose.”

"Ew," Bobby’s chuckle is cut short by a shiver. “That’s so gross.” He says, voice hoarse, still riding that last wave.

“I’m not the one with cum-stained He-Man boxers.” She laughs.

He barks out a laugh too, not expecting to hear that at all. Jesus, this is crazy. His cum is in her fist and she's already taking the piss out of him. 

_Madly in love doesn't even cut it._

And, there it is. There's that word. It's suddenly illuminated in his mind like Christmas lights.

He stiffens, shocked that he would even think that. His face flushes even more than it already has, his freckles stark against his rosy cheeks. Surely he has no idea what that word means. Not at his age.

"You alright?" Poppy laughs even harder at him, wiping her hand on the bed sheets. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Yeah, I -" He shakes his head, confused and still panting. "Yeah -"

She snorts with laughter, before pushing herself up and off the bed and out the room. Just watching her walk away is bliss. And terrifying. He hears the tap running in the bathroom and a minute later she returns with a warm flannel in her hand.

She knees her way onto the bed, silent as she gently wipes up the mess on his stomach and tries her best to get it out the fabric of his underwear, making them both blush, unable to meet the others eyes for very different reasons. After she's done, he pulls up his pants as she chucks the flannel on the nightstand.

“You need to stop ruining my underwear.” He says, the first thing he can think of to break the silence.

Poppy doesn’t crack straight away, fighting a smile as much as she can. It doesn’t work, a loud _pfft_ sound escapes her, followed by more laughter. 

“That’s your fault.” She says, still grinning. “Not mine.”

“You had a hand in the matter.” He frowns innocently.

“Shut up.” She laughs.

“Turned into a proper sticky situation -”

“ _Shush.”_ She places her fingers on his lips. “You’re so gross.”

Bobby is feeling all kinds of mellow and happy and a buzzing sort of something. That big looming word pools in his throat, not sure whether to swallow it down or let it fly. He’s caught between a riptide. It’s terrifying. Very, very terrifying. _Love? Pfft, no. No way_. There’s no way. He’s just a little light headed that’s all. He shoves the idea aside, putting it down to the power of orgasms. Or, that’s at least what he convinces himself with anyways.

"Come here," He murmurs, tugging lightly on her shirt.

Without a word she obliges, grinning before leaning down and kissing him. He pulls her into his lap, the last of his morning glory snug up against the little pyjama shorts she’s wearing. He kisses back just as hungry as before, groaning as she shifts away and runs her tongue down his neck. 

“I’m gonna shower.” She sighs into his skin before pulling back from him again. 

Bobby’s eyes light up and she snorts.

“ _Alone.”_ She states before getting up.

His pout makes her laugh again and gently swat at his arm before she leaves the room. They take their respective showers, one after the other. Bobby lounges in bed, soaking up the sound of her humming to herself in the bathroom, her lullaby voice almost sending him to sleep. By the time he returns from his own, she’s standing in front of her dresser, adjusting the straps of her cossie before popping open the cap of a suncream. He stands behind her, tucking his face into the crook of her neck and rubbing his wet hair against her.

“You’re still wet!” She crows, but makes no effort to move away.

“Sorry.” He giggles not meaning it.

She slumps back against him and he squeezes his arms around her middle, breathing in the scent of the coconut oil sitting in her hair. He runs his hands up her sides and tickles her ribs, she wriggles and laughs, her grip on the suncream loosening. Just as he’s about to nab it from her hands, his gaze lands on a neatly wrapped gift amongst the mess of creams and moisturisers on top of her dresser. A little label with his name scribbled on it stares back at him. He stands up straight, taking his hands away from her and points to it.

“What’s that?” He asks, heart rate picking up. From excitement or dread, he’s not quite sure.

“Huh?”

“The box.” He moves and stands next to her, picking it up. “It has my name on it.”

“Oh! _That._ ” She flushes and worries her lip between her teeth, looking… embarrassed? “Remember at your birthday party when I said I had a special gift? I never gave it to you.”

“Was you throwing up on me not your gift?” He teases and she pulls back to hit him on the arm.

“Don’t be a dick -”

“Or trying to kiss me when you were wasted?” He continues.

“You’re a proper cocky git now aren’t you?” She laughs. 

He takes her hand and sits them on the edge of the bed. He tears open the paper and opens the box, feeling her eyes burning against the side of his head as she watches. Inside sits a… camera case? He takes it out, realising it’s the same one he was looking at in the electronics store where she hustled the walkie-talkies out of Carl. He opens the bag to find the camera sitting in there too. There’s even another lens sitting next to it.

Bobby stays quiet for a moment, staring down at the camera. The very expensive camera from what he can remember. Poppy chews on her thumb, waiting for him to say something but bursts first.

“It’s the camera you were looking at in that shop we went to. Where Carl works. Remember?” She says softly.

“You -” He’s shocked, no clue what to say. So, he goes for the joke instead. “I thought you said you weren’t going to charm Carl out of pocket anymore?”

She laughs softly. “I didn’t.” She pauses. “I bought it.”

“You _bought_ it?”

“Yeah, well -” She shrugs. “You were looking at it and then you said that your sister broke her camera, so when we started getting the heist money I went back and bought it.” She frowns. “And… saying it outloud I realise I’ve actually bought your sister a gift and not you.”

Bobby lets out a loud laugh, realising that too. He laughs even more when the reality hits Poppy harder and she makes a sad groaning sound as she slaps her forehead. Ouch.

“It’s fine.” He laughs. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” He reassures and has to pause from his giggles. “She’ll love it.”

“Ugh,” Poppy shakes her head. “That’s not the point!"

"What?"

"I wanted to give you something nice.”

“You don’t have to give me anything.”

“I know but I want to.” She says quietly, keeping her eyes on his.

She watches as Bobby carefully places the gift next to him and turns to face her again.

“I love it. Thank you.” He kisses her quick.

Poppy smiles wide. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course!” His own happiness mirrors her own. “I can’t believe you bought it! You just needed an excuse to see Carl.”

Poppy laughs short and loud. His favourite.

“Fuck off.” She says. “I’ll save you the details, but he was pretty happy to see me.”

“Uh huh. I bet.” He raises his eyebrows and gives her a nod. “Clearly my impression hasn’t been strong enough to ward you away from him.”

“Okay, okay. I admit it! You’ve caught me!” She holds up her hands.

“I knew it!” He points a finger at her.

“It’s those baby blues of his.” She stares into his eyes and he feels his skin prickle. “Irresistible.”

“Yeah?” He grins.

“Yeah.” She laughs and stands up. “He’s pretty cute, too.”

“Okay, now I know you’re lying.” He rolls his eyes.

Still laughing, she walks out the room and calls over her shoulder that they should probably leave soon. Bobby jumps up from the bed and quickly gathers his things before following her out into the hall. He ducks into the bathroom, trying not to cringe too much as he grabs the towel wrapped around not one but now _two_ pairs of sodden boxers.

Poppy’s waiting by the open door, keys dancing in her hands as she waits. He crosses over to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and placing a squeaky kiss on her temple.

“Imma go home first and drop my stuff off.” He points to his bag on his back. “You don’t need to wait.”

“Why?” She frowns. “S’just clothes.”

“I don’t really want them sitting in the sun all day.” He widens his eyes.

“ _Oooh_ ,” She blushes and then laughs. “Right. Gross.”

“See you at the beach?” He gives her chin a squeeze.

“Yep.” She grins, drawing a line with her finger down his. "See you at the beach."

He catches her wrist, kissing her fingers before dropping her hand. They meet halfway as he leans down, wanting to give her a real kiss. It’s soft and tender but laced in an unspoken sadness, knowing this will be the last one they can share until later today. She pulls away but Bobby steals another kiss. Again, she turns to go but he pulls her back into him one more time, earning a laugh. He gives her bum a firm smack before letting go and running past her and out the door.

"Bobby!" He can hear her fighting her laugh as she shouts.

He runs down the steps, listening to her frantically trying to lock the front door. "C'mon, slow poke! We don't have all day!"

  
  


**

  
  


“You guys are going to San Fermin tomorrow, right?” Marisol asks.

"Oooh yes!" Lottie rubs her hands together, looking incredibly pleased. "Are you?"

"Can't." Marisol frowns. "Promised I'd help my dad with his stall on the night."

"Can you not escape for a couple of hours?" Lottie pouts.

"I doubt it." She laughs.

"Lame. At least sneak away for the fireworks at the end?" She asks.

“We’ll see.” Marisol smiles.

The group is scattered out on the sand as always, in the midst of their lunch break. It’s not as hot today, the sky littered with some clouds. Poppy is completely zoned out from the conversation, watching the streaks of white float by.

The atmosphere is a little different today. There’s an underlying energy in the town, the anticipation for tomorrow’s festivities looming in the air. The locals are just as excited as the tourists. It’s not as crazy or wild as the celebrations in mainland Spain, but it was always fun. It brought the whole island together for a night of fun. The main highstreets in town are lined with stalls getting prepped, bunting and lights are hanging between the buildings, creating a webs of vibrant colours.

Lottie turns to where Hope is lying back on the sand, an arm draped over her eyes to block out the sun and pokes her on the shoulder. "Oi,"

"What?" Hope smacks at her hand.

"You going to the festival tomorrow?" Lottie asks.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Hope nods. “Lucas wants to do the salsa dancing and sangria workshop.”

Lottie fake gags. “God. Out of everyone here you had to go for the boring git.”

“Hey!” Hope moves her arm, her head turning to face Lottie. “He’s not boring -"

"You just like him 'cause his family is minted."

"He's not boring!" Hope repeats louder this time, not to get interrupted. "He just wants to do some cultural stuff while we still have the chance.”

“Hope, _I_ could teach him salsa dancing.” Marisol sounds bored just saying it out loud. “It’s no big deal.”

Hope frowns. “Just because he doesn’t want to get super drunk -”

“San Fermin is the best time to get super drunk! It’s like the only last exciting thing going on ‘till the end of summer.” Lottie says.

“Are you not gonna throw the goodbye party?” Hope sits up, looking genuinely upset.

"Oh, yeah, yeah -" Lottie waves a hand. "Of course I am. Wouldn't be the end of summer without it." Her enthusiasm dimmers. "Kassam was gonna sort out the music, but he's being a right dick lately. Might find someone else."

"Oh no." Hope offers a hand and Lottie takes it. "Are you still gonna bring him tomorrow night?"

"Nah," Her face screws up and she frowns. "Imma go stag. Or I could join the guys."

"I think the guys are busy." Marisol says.

"What?"

"Apparently Ibrahim is going with that Jo girl he's been seeing. And Gary said he's going with someone but won't spill." Marisol shrugs.

"I heard Noah's taking Priya." Hope adds.

"Ugh, what?" Lottie frowns. "Is everyone in couples? When'd we get so boring?"

"Stop calling people boring." Hope lightly taps her leg.

"Fine." Lottie rolls her eyes. "So, that leaves… Rocco, Henrik and…?"

"Bobby." Hope finishes for her.

"Bobby." Lottie echoes quietly, cogs in her head turning. She turns to Poppy, who's still in her daydream state.

"Are you going to San Fermin with anyone?" 

Poppy doesn’t catch the question at first, too relaxed and a little blissed, leaning back on her hands and stretching out her legs. The silence in the group lingers a little too long, making her attention snap back to the others to find they’re all staring at her. They’re all smiling, different degrees of intrigue on their faces. 

“What?” Poppy demands.

"I said, are you going to San Fermin with anyone?" Lottie repeats.

Poppy hesitates. "Are we not going in a group?"

"Everyone's all lovied up."

“Oh,” Poppy breathes out. “Um, then... I guess I’ll go with you guys?”

“You don’t have to.”

“What?”

“I mean… if you wanna go with someone else.” Lottie tilts her head, giving her a smile.

Poppy flushes. Shit. What she thought was an innocent girl chat has now revealed itself to be interrogation. All eyes are on her, it feels almost intrusive. Marisol looks quizzical, Hope excited and Lottie smug. She turns to Lottie, her smirk still on her face. She’s always been weak around her. Lottie simply raises an eyebrow. A silent question.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Poppy crosses her arms.

“You have not stopped smiling all week.” Hope says, with a grin. She reaches over to pluck one of Poppy’s curls. “Even your hair is bouncier.”

Poppy gently bats her hands away. “I’ve been the same.”

“Hope’s right,” Marisol cocks her head, her sweeping gaze ignites a flush on Poppy’s face. “You’ve got like… a little glow.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you spend all day in the sun.” Poppy blushes even harder, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Nothing’s going on.”

She watches as Lottie looks over to where Bobby is sitting with Gary and Ibrahim. It’s weird to see him without Chelsea or Noah. Gary is rambling wildly as the other two laugh along to his story. Poppy naturally follows her eye line, only to meet Bobby’s gaze. He gives her a small grin before turning his attention back to Gary. Crap. When Poppy turns back, Lottie is already staring right at her. Busted. Lottie lifts both her eyebrows this time, piercing eyes burrowing into Poppy’s for an answer, only making the latter blush more.

“Ugh,” She rolls her eyes like it’s nothing. But, the way she absently tugs on a strand of hair says otherwise. “It’s nothing. It’s really nothing.”

Still, Lottie continues to stay silent and stare at her, smile starting to grow. Oh, god. 

“Stop looking at me like that!” Poppy smacks her arm, making Lottie burst into laughter again. Desperately trying to deny, Poppy keeps talking, only to dig herself in a deeper hole. “It’s - he’s just, y’know,” She shrugs. “We haven’t -”

“Haven’t what?” Marisol cuts in, suddenly as excited.

“No, not like -” Her eyebrows screw together. “Not like that. I mean - Bobby? Pfft. No. Please. He’s my mate. I would never -”

“You are such a terrible liar!” Lottie can't contain her laugh anymore. “No wonder he likes you so much, you’re like the same person.”

“Uh,” Poppy stammers. “He - no he doesn’t -”

“Please, enough with the act.” Lottie holds up a hand, still giggling. “I already know.”

“You _what -”_

“He already told me.”

“He _what -_ ”

“Yeah, way back.” Lottie shrugs.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Poppy looks over her shoulder where Bobby is sitting, completely unaware of her death glare.

“Well, he didn’t exactly tell me. I just kinda coaxed it outta him.” Lottie continues. “I just wanted to see if you’d admit to it too. Plus, you both have huge bags under yours eyes. It’s so painfully obvious.”

“You’re evil.” Poppy shakes her head.

“So, you admit it!” She says, just a tad too loudly. Poppy shushes her, waving her hands.

“Oh my god, it’s _true?_ ” Hope asks as Marisol says, “That’s so cute!”

“I’m not saying anything.” Poppy sulks.

“ _I knew it!_ ” Lottie shouts so loud, it echoes across the beach, making others turn to look at them. Poppy’s eyes go comically wide and Hope and Marisol dissolve into a laughing fit. Poppy scrambles to her knees, tackling Lottie to the sand as she puts her hand on her mouth. 

“Shut up!” Poppy says through her teeth. 

She can’t stay angry for too long as Lottie starks shrieking with laughter behind her hand. When Poppy lets go, Lottie pumps her fists in the air, looking up at the sky.

“I knew it!” She shout-whispers. “Knew it. Knew it. _Knew it._ ”

“I didn’t say yes!”

“You haven’t denied it either.” Lottie quickly shoots back.

“So, it is true?” Hope claps her hands together. “I knew you guys were close, but -”

“Close?” Marisol scoffs. “Have you forgotten his birthday party?” She turns to look at Poppy. “You were practically climbing him.”

“Well, he didn’t seem to mind.” Poppy defends.

“How long has this been happening?” Hope shuffles closer, her voice dropping into a whisper.

“Uh. Over a week, I think?” She looks around the group. “It happened after his birthday.”

“Oh, I bet it happened.” Lottie chuckles to herself, still lying on the sand.

“Please!” Poppy says. “Can we not right now.”

Lottie stops laughing and wipes at her eyes. She sits up and looks over at Poppy, holding her pointer fingers about an inch apart.

“Tell me when.” Lottie says.

She very, _very_ slowly starts moving her hands away from each other, distance between her fingers growing. Poppy just rolls her eyes. When Lottie’s fingers are about 3 inches apart, she raises an eyebrow at her.

“Mm?”

Poppy stares blankly at her, not looking amused in the slightest. Lottie starts moving her hands again. 4 inches apart now. Lottie looks up, still to be met with Poppy’s disapproving face. She keeps moving. 5 inches… aaand now about 6 inches.

“Really?” Lottie frowns. “Okay. Wow.”

She starts moving her hands apart again. Another inch.

“Now?” Lottie’s eyes go wide. Marisol and Hope are now in a fit of giggles.

“I told you, I’m not saying anything.” Poppy shakes her head, completely red in the face.

“Now!?” Her hands are still moving.

“Lottie!” Poppy smacks her hands down. “Quit it!”

“Damn, Bobby.”

“I hate you.” Poppy groans.

“No, you don’t.” Lottie grins and laughs.

  
  


**

  
  
  


The end of the day couldn’t have come soon enough, for either of them.

It felt like torture, Lottie teasing Poppy with silly glances and Bobby was just dying to be with her in private again. He practically runs home, ready to grab more clothes and head over to Poppy’s as soon as he can. He figures if he's quick he won’t run into anyone in the house. But, he’s halfway up the stairs when his mother calls out for him from the kitchen, making him trip on a step.

“ _Bobby?_ ”

There’s a little waver in her voice that makes him concerned.

“Ma?” He calls back, internally groaning as he rubs his knee.

"Can you come here for a second, love?" Beth asks.

Bobby freezes and then frowns as he climbs back down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Are you okay? What's wrong -"

Beth is sitting at the kitchen table. She doesn’t look upset or distraught or anything, putting him at ease. But, she looks a little… confused. Bobby's eyes land on a laundry basket sitting on the table. Hm, weird. But, then he sees his freshly washed boxers from the night before, neatly folded on top of the towel Poppy leant him. Oh, god. 

Fuck. Shit. Oh, no. _No._ No, no, no -

"Can you sit down?" Beth asks.

"Ma, oh my god -"

Bobby’s completely frozen. Mortified. Blushing is an understatement. He’s as red as beetroot, face as hot as a pan. He stands there, drowning in the embarrassment with no idea what to do. Even if he were to run he’s sure his legs would give out before he even made it out the door. He can already feel this moment searing itself into his brain forever, ready to torment him until the end of time.

"Bobby, sweetheart, it's fine, just sit down -" She tugs on his arm, pulling him down into the empty chair next to her. "We're just talking."

" _Mum._ We are not having this conversation." He insists, eyes wide.

"I'm not trying to have a conversation. I just want to say that it's okay and that's it's _normal_ -"

"This is not happening -"

Death would be nicer. It really, really would.

"Sweetheart, it's perfectly fine. You're at that age now where you'll want to start… _doing_ stuff and I don't think you should be embarrassed about it!"

"Of course I'm embarrassed about it! Why did you go through my things!?" He groans.

“You were in a rush this morning, I thought I was helping!” She defends.

Bobby groans, putting his head in his hands. This is not happening. This is **not** happening _._ He begins to count down from ten but is interrupted when Beth continues to talk.

"Listen, I'm just chuffed ya little dobber works -"

 _"Ma!"_ He shouts.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm just saying," She holds her hands up. "You know I want grandkids. Maybe, for future reference you can work on your aim."

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph." He looks at the floor. "Why am I not being swallowed up right now? Am I already in purgatory?"

"It's good tae know the gun's loaded but maybe some target practise is needed." She nods. "You get me?"

Beth starts cracking up at her own joke, like only a mother would. He would laugh too, if he wasn’t in the middle of his own personal hell right now. Bobby throws her a cold look, still looking embarrassed.

“You with a new bird?” She asks, genuinely curious. “This never happened with -”

“I am _not_ answering that.” He interrupts.

The both still when they hear a key turn in the front door. It opens and closes with unnecessary force, the sound rattling all throughout the house. God damn it. Terry.

"That's Terry!" She raises her voice. " _Babe_! Could you come into the kitchen?"

"I'm leaving -" Bobby shoots up from his seat.

But, as he turns to go, Terry is already standing in the doorway looking a little confused. God damn it. _God fucking damn it._

“Hey,” Terry smiles, though looking skeptical. “What’s going on?”

“ _Nothing’s going on._ ” Bobby rushes out. His burning face speaks otherwise.

Jesus Christ, this is the worst thing to ever happen. This is even more embarrassing than when his mum burst into the room to find him and Priya in very compromising circumstances. His skin crawls at the memory. Terry’s eyes flick down to Bobby, who’s staring up at him with wide pleading eyes. Not pleading. Begging. _Help._

“We’re just having a talk.” Beth shrugs.

“A talk?” He asks.

“Yes. A talk.” Beth nods. “A grown-up talk. _Birds and the bees -_ ”

“ _Ma._ ” Bobby whips around to shush her again. “Please. I’d rather die.”

Terry chuckles. “Yeah, me too.”

“Oh, come _on._ ” Beth rolls her eyes. “It’s normal. It’s healthy. Ye shouldn’t be ashamed. I never had this type of talk with my ma - God rest her soul. She would’ve probably keeled over if I had ever brought up sex. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me about these types of things.”

“For the record, don’t feel like you can come to me with these things.” Terry adds, half-joking.

Finally, Bobby cracks a smile. Beth scoffs and throws her arms in the air.

“Terry!” She crows.

“What?” He gives her a frown. “He’s a growing lad. He’ll figure out… whatever he’s trying to figure out.” He places a firm assuring hand on Bobby’s shoulder. “Just be safe, alright?”

Still embarrassed, Bobby smiles even wider. God, is Terry… cool now? Does he like Terry now? Everything is being flipped on its head recently and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

“Oh!” Beth leaps up, excited. “That’s a good idea. You can borrow some of the condoms we have upstairs.”

“ _Mum!”_ He shouts, the loudest he’s been the entire time. “Jesus Christ -”

“I don’t think you mean borrow, hun,” Terry says, beginning to laugh. “That implies giving them back.”

“Oh, yeah.” Beth cackles as she walks past and pats Bobby on the shoulder. “We definitely don’t want them back.” She jokes.

Bobby's face switches from general embarrassment to completely mortified again. He swears not only the blood drains from his face but even a bit of melanin, he goes so pale. Terry erupts, his laughs tumbling over each other uncontrollably. Beth's laugh matches, hooting and hollering as she goes upstairs to actually retrieve the damn things.

Bobby sits back at the kitchen table, feeling dazed and groans into his palms. The laundry basket sitting on top silently torments him.

God fucking damn it. At least his boxers are clean now.

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeeey fam. i'm back!! kinda!!!
> 
> had some rough few days the last week so wanted to write something a little bit silly for this chapter!! hope you enjoyed it 💓 and, i'm finally fiinaallyy working on a punk!bobby fic so stay tuned!
> 
> thank you to the cc for being so wonderful and supportive as always. and thank you especially to kat for giving me the wonderful/ gross idea of bobby's mum doing his laundry 😭
> 
> kudos, comments, shouting at me on twitter @l0singface or tumblr @losingface is always highly appreciated! sometimes i draw things and post them!
> 
> thank you for reading!!!! 🖤


	28. 'Til I Saw Your Face, Now I Can't Erase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 🚫 warning for minor description of a dead body.

**

  
  


**Bobby, Poppy**

_21:55_

"There?"

"Mm. Lower."

"...There?"

"A little bit higher."

" _There?"_

"Ooh! Yeah! There's good."

"Are you sure?" Bobby asks, hesitant.

"Jesus," Poppy rolls her eyes. "Just do it already would ya."

Bobby takes a deep breath. His target is in sight. Ready to shoot his shot.

_Ping!_

A pellet ricochets around the structure of a shooting gallery instead of hitting the target. Bobby groans and let's the fake plastic gun in his hands clatter to the counter as Poppy let's out a whooping laugh beside him.

"God, you're an awful shot!" She hollers. The man supervising the stall has his arms crossed, trying to not look too amused but breaks out in a quiet chuckle. Bobby's been at this for maybe 10 minutes.

"I'm not that bad." He says. The untouched targets in-front of him say otherwise, taunting him.

It’s a hot summer's evening. Perfect for a festival.

San Fermin is well underway. The town is drenched in bright string lights and colourful bunting. Locals and summer goers are crowding the streets, bouncing between stalls set up in the centre of town and lining the pavement. Eager customers are queuing for food and drink, excited and impatient all the same. Sangria and tapas are getting passed around like it's the last meal on earth.

Music can be heard from every inch of the bulk of the town, layered with loud chatter and the occasional happy scream suddenly shooting through the already overwhelming noise. The air is rich with food, sugar and spice and everything nice dancing together and enticing anyone who’s in walking distance. It's like breathing in cotton candy every time Bobby inhales, sweetness getting stuck to his lungs.

Towards the beach there are carnival games and rides set up, more geared towards the kids and teens in the area. A ferris wheel stands tall on the strip adjacent to the beach, with a helter skelter to it’s left and merry-go-round to it’s right. Children and teens that have escaped the watchful eyes of their parents are running about, excited to be among the festivities.

The beach is dotted with small bonfires, little twinkling beacons in the night with groups of people gathered around them for warmth. Drunken conversation and even louder laughter ripples between the groups on the beach, the night’s festivities putting everyone in a good mood.

Bobby and Poppy stand at one of the shooting galleries scattered about on the strip, lit up by the colourful lights but hidden by the mass of the crowd. It’s so packed tonight they figure they won’t get spotted together. But, as a precaution, Poppy has her hood pulled up, slightly hidden by the mess of curls framing her face and trying to escape their confines.

She’s trying to have fun, buying into the games, tasting free food samples and snagging whatever drink they can find with him. But, being out in the open and potentially exposing them has her on edge. Even more than usual after basically admitting it to the girls on the beach yesterday afternoon.

"May I remind you of when we played beer pong on your birthday?" Poppy giggles.

Bobby’s face burns, though it comes with a smile at the memory. "I made the winning shot at beer pong!" He turns to face her, starting to laugh too.

"Yeah, because I helped you. You gotta work on your aim."

Bobby freezes. Hm. Sounds like his mother's words from yesterday. He shakes off the embarrassment before it can fully settle in. The man handling the stall insists that Bobby tries again but he declines, only making Poppy topple in another fit of laughter.

“Ah man,” She snorts into the sleeve of her hoodie. “You suck. Give it to me.”

With a playful push she moves him to the side before digging into her pocket and handing over some change to the eager worker in the stall. She stands with confidence, her feet slightly separated and shoulders squared. She holds the gun with both hands and before the worker has even stashed the money away she shoots at the targets.

They’re hit with a precision so acute, the targets flip back quick enough that you can barely see it. Once there now gone. She doesn’t hesitate, hitting one after another.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

Some kind of winners board lights up, the flashing lights so bright and cheerful as if they’re dancing. Bobby frowns. It literally looks like it’s mocking him. Poppy turns to face him, a smug grin on her face and pretends to blow smoke away from the barrel of the gun.

“You suck.” Bobby says.

“No I don’t,” Poppy says, pointing to the board. “I win!”

  
  


**

  
  


**Chelsea, Gary**

_22:02_

“I’m just worried.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re both being knobs.”

“That’s what you get for hanging out with dudes.” Gary laughs to himself, wolfing down the last of the churro in his hand.

Chelsea sags back in where they’re sitting in the sand. The festival had not distracted her in the way Gary had initially hoped. She’s been off for the past few days and Gary was certain that the sea of colours and manufactured fun laid out all over the town centre was going to be enough. There were only so many times Gary could win a cuddly toy to earn a grin from her before the good mood melted away again.

So, like any concerned person, he took her down to the beach where people are starting to settle for the fireworks. With a frown, he watches her fiddle with the two monkey plushies she’s holding in her hands, looking totally uninterested.

They’re both bathed in the twilight, colour completely barren on the beach and making everything look like some old-timey film. There is a roaring bonfire in front of them, warming other groups of people and couples closeby. The orange hue from the bonfire soaks them in a warm glow, strokes of orange and flicks of yellow dancing over their faces. 

“I’m sure they will start talking again.” Gary tries, resting a hand on her knee.

“But, how do you know that?” She asks as she turns to face him.

He reaches over to tuck a strand of blonde hair, almost a platinum-silver in the moonlight, behind her ear. Chelsea smiles wide at the touch. It’s not something they’ve ever dared to do in public, but she allows the gesture.

“Honestly? I don’t.” He admits with a small sigh. “I just know that you guys are mates. Nothing gets in between mates.”

“It’s already happened.” Chelsea shakes her head. “Even I’ve been distracted. It’s all of our fault.”

“Look, I’m not some… wordsmith, but if you’re so concerned about it you should talk to them.”

“I _tried.”_

“Then try again.”

“It’s kinda hard to when they’re both pussy whipped right now.” Chelsea teases.

Gary lets out a bellowing laugh, maybe a bit too loud. Chelsea shakes with laughter too.

“Are you sure?” He just about gets out between dying giggles. “I mean they could just be, like, mates?”

Chelsea scoffs. “Oh, please. I’m blonde but I’m not dumb.” She rolls her eyes. “Noah follows Priya around like a stray dog these days and Bobby’s current favourite activity is sightseeing. Specifically Poppy’s behind.”

Gary snorts. “You really think they’re together?”

“You must be blind.”

“No! No. I’m just saying, like… maybe we shouldn’t assume.” He says. “Poppy’s interest in guys hasn’t really lasted long from what I’ve seen. Like Rocco.”

“Rocco’s a dick.” Chelsea replies straight away.

“True.” Gary nods. “Very true.”

“I don’t want it to blow up in their faces.” Chelsea says.

“I’m sure it won’t. Like I said - they’re mates. They can talk it through.”

“I’m still worried, though.”

“Hi worried, I’m Gary - _ow!”_

Chelsea draws her hand back from where she’s slapped him on the arm.

“I’m being serious.” She says, sounding a little defeated. 

“Monkey, I’m joking -”

Chelsea goes for a full blown punch this time.

“I told you not to call me that in public!” She hisses, though the sprinkle of pink sitting on her cheeks suggests she doesn’t mind the pet name at all.

“Agh!” Gary grabs her wrist, hoping it will stop her from hitting him again. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry!”

Chelsea laughs, shooting him a smile. They sit in silence for a moment, content in the warmth of the bonfire and the glowing beach scenery around them. Chelsea shivers, not from the cold but Gary’s gentle fingers stroking over her wrist. She shuffles closer and rests up against his side.

“It’s fine.” She sighs, her head propped on his shoulder. “You’re probably right. They just need to talk to each other.”

“I’m right?” Gary sits up a little, excited. “Can I get that in writing?”

“God, no.”

Gary laughs.

  
  


**

  
  


**Henrik, Rocco**

_22:09_

“Sounds to me that you guys are done for.”

“You think?”

“Duh.” Henrik rolls his eyes, along with effortlessly rolling a joint in his hands. He’s not even looking at his fingers, staring directly at Rocco. “You said it yourself. She doesn’t even want to talk to you anymore. You’re done. Like, _done_ done, bro.”

Sitting up on the roof of the lifeguard tower, the pair are looking out over the ocean, just a little tipsy. Well, Henrik is a little tipsy. Rocco is well on his way to getting so drunk that he will have no success rate of climbing down from the roof without hurting himself. He takes another swig of whiskey from the flask he’s holding, grimacing as it hits and burns his throat.

The festival is a distant thing behind them, uninteresting even though it seems like the whole of the town and surrounding areas is out right now. Henrik had been up for checking it out, but after meeting up with Rocco he knew that the festival was not going to be on their agenda tonight. He looked rough. More than usual. His eyes were drooping from tiredness and unkempt hair messier than usual. Henrik could tell he had already been drinking.

Henrik keeps his stare ahead, a smidge of concern playing on his features as he listens to Rocco groan and barely takes a second before taking another sip from his flask. It clatters next to them, now empty, and Rocco lies back to look at the inky sky.

“We were going to travel together.” Rocco murmurs.

“I know.” Henrik nods. “But, now you’re not.”

Rocco takes a heavy breath, drawing in all the air he can into his lungs and letting it out slowly. The stars above are beginning to swirl in his vision. He’s definitely drunk now. He closes his eyes to stop the spinning. To stop the thoughts threatening to peek through the darkness like sunshine through the clouds, as bright as Poppy’s smile.

He tries not to think ahead. Of what was once set in stone but now dust at his feet. He can see it so clear in his mind, even now when he knows it’ll never come to fruition. He’s envisioned it the entire summer.

Him and her surrounded by the nature of slovenien alpine mountain ranges with no aspiration in sight. They’d bathe in the crystal clear lakes and poke at the glossy red mulberries and steal each other’s warmth when the barriers of the tent weren’t enough to protect them from the cold at night. And when the outdoors became too much they’d indulge themselves in a city. Rocco always imagined Prague. An old city with a youthful energy. The narrow streets silently speak about its history and the architecture stands bold and shows off it’s beauty.

But, then his mind bounces over to Venice. Buildings tall with multi-coloured shutters hiding away the beautiful arch of windows. Cafe’s line the streets alongside the markets, towered over by the cathedrals and cut up by the rivers littered with boats. The thought of exploring and getting lost in the narrow alleyways with her sends his heart racing.

What would Vienna be like? Budapest? Cologne?

That’s all just a dream now.

“You sure you don’t wanna try out the festival?” Henrik asks, trying to pull him out of his thoughts.

“I already told you no.” Rocco grumbles, his eyes snapping open. He knows she’ll be there. He know who she’ll be _with_. He looks over at Henrik. “If you wanna go then just go.”

“I’m not gonna leave you by yourself.” Henrik shakes his head.

“I’m fine by myself.”

“Mate. You’re really not.”

“Fuck sake,” Rocco sits up. “Just go to the festival alright?” He raises his voice. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Rocco -”

“ _I said go!”_ He snaps.

“Fine,” Henrik tucks his joint behind his ear. “Maybe find a different way to get over her other than drinking.”

“Pass me the J and I’ll be as right as rain.”

Henrik doesn’t waste any time sighing and discreetly rolling his eyes. Rocco watches as he stands up and walks over to the side of the roof before climbing down in silence.

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby, Poppy**

_22:17_

“Should I be worried that you were able to aim that gun so effortlessly?” Bobby asks as they walk together, eyeing up what to do next.

She laughs, then clasps her hands together like a gun. "I'm trained to kill."

“Secret service?” Bobby asks, grinning.

“I work on my own.” She points her fingers at him.

Bobby gasps and scrambles to make his own finger gun, pointing it at her too. “A rogue!”

“I had no choice!” She dramatically plays along, taking a step back and keeping her arms outstretched as she aims at him. “The agency turned on me before I turned on them!”

“I’m gonna have to take you in,” Bobby shakes his head, though he keeps his focus on her. “It’s the only way.”

“You’re gonna have to catch me first!” She grins and laughs as she drops her hands.

They continue to walk and she naturally steps up to his side again, their arms brushing. They bop between the different stalls, wanderous eyes scanning over everything to offer. 

“I’m serious,” Bobby says, turning away from where they’ve just bought some candy floss. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Shoot.”

“Does it intimidate you?” Poppy laughs, picking a piece of the pink candy floss for herself.

“No,” Bobby shakes his head as he takes a piece too. “You were just really good.”

“Eh,” She shrugs. “Been to this festival so many times now. I spent practically every evening here whenever it was on.”

Bobby’s steps falter for a second. “You came here every night? For like a week?”

“Yeah.” She nods.

“Didn’t your mum get annoyed taking you?” He teases, but it doesn’t ignite a laugh from her.

“Pfft. She didn’t come, I was on my tod.”

“Oh -”

“It’s fine. She, uh, was mostly busy running her resort and stuff.” Poppy murmurs. “It’s the busiest time of year. She’s always up to her ears in guests.”

“Sounds… stressful.” Bobby nods.

“Yeah, she’s pretty much there 24/7.”

“Didn’t she come, like, at least once?”

“No,”

“How come?” Bobby asks.

Poppy stops walking completely. She turns to face him but her eyes wander over to the carousel they’re next to. A young boy squeals with joy as his mother picks him up and settles him on top of one of the horses before taking a seat behind him. He’s practically bouncing in excitement, making her laugh, as he waits for the ride to start. She grits her teeth at the sound of elation.

“I told you.” Poppy’s eyebrows pinch together, turning back to look at him. “She was busy.”

“Every single year?” He frowns. “Haven’t you been here since before you were even a teenager?”

“Do you seriously want to talk about my mother right now?” She asks, her tone more pointed than normal. “I _said_ she was busy. That’s it.”

“No, I -” Bobby deflates a little, his shoulders sagging. “Sorry -”

Poppy shakes her head, annoyance suddenly gone. “No, it’s fine,” Her whole face shifts into something other than happiness. Guilt maybe. “She just wasn’t around a lot, that’s all. Had to entertain myself.”

“I didn’t mean to push.”

“No, please, it’s okay.” She laughs a little, warmth returning to her face. She holds out the rest of their cotton candy for him and he eats it without a second thought. She absently watches as he sucks the sugary stickiness off his fingers before putting the plastic bag in a bin next to them and continuing to walk. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Bobby lifts an eyebrow. “You mean now or just all the time?” He asks, the mood lightening again.

“Shut up.” She shoves at his chest, laughing.

“Hey! Rude!” Bobby catches her arm.

Poppy’s laugh bubbles between them, though her face turns sheepish. Bobby catches it straight away, remembering they are very much out in public. He’s barely even noticed. To him they’re the only people alive, floating in the sea of people around them so delicately. He knows the others are out tonight, one wrong corner and they could so easily bump into someone they know, only confirming their suspicions.

She pulls her hand away, using it to anxiously pull at the strings of her hoodie instead.

“I have to tell you something.” She says quietly.

“Oh?” His face drops.

“It’s nothing bad.” She says, though her expression doesn’t exactly match her words. Everything around them suddenly feels too cheerful compared to her mood.

Bobby ushers her to one side, next to a food stall and out of the way of the moving people on the path. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” She breathes out and some of her smile returns. “Better than actually.”

“Oh. Then what’s wrong?”

“They know.” She states. “Well -” She shakes her head at herself. “The girls know. About us. Specifically Hope, Lottie and Marisol. Lottie got it out of me yesterday.”

“Right,” He sighs, a little confused. No dread, no fear, no anxiousness waves over him. Nothing. He takes it in like anything other mundane piece of information. “Okay.” He shrugs.

Poppy blinks at him. “...Okay?”

“Yeah,” He smiles. “Okay. That’s cool with me.”

“What? Really?” Her face lights up, brown eyes shimmering under the fairy lights dangling above them. Bobby swears the cosmos is dancing in her the deep brown of her eyes. “You’re not mad or anything?”

“Why would I be mad? I mean, people are going to find out one way or another.” Bobby says.

“Have you told Chelsea and Noah?”

He stiffens. “No,” A strained chuckle leaves him. “Though… I have a feeling they know.”

“Oh, yeah?” She teases. “Your ogling has never been conspicuous so… it makes sense.”

“Conspicuous?” Bobby raises his eyebrows. “Look at you using big words.”

“Fuck you!” She laughs, loud and bright, catching the attention of passersby.

“Again with the rudeness,” Bobby teases and rolls his eyes.

“You’re such a div.” Poppy hits his chest and he grabs her wrist again to pull her closer.

“Ooh, calm down Einstein. No need for names.”

“Twat _._ ” She grins, giving into his grip and letting herself be dragged in.

“Smart-arse.” He grins too.

“ _Dick._ ” She laughs.

Bobby can’t stop smiling, their back and forth has always been one of his happiest places. Never has he wanted to kiss her so badly.

His gaze is heavy, if manifested into a hand it’d be roaming and sweeping over her features, taking in every inch lit up by the soft sun-like glow above. She’s beaming, eyes wide with mischief and skin painted with yellows and orange. She’s glowing, just like the day they met under the sunshine, unaware of the heat that was going to grow between them too.

She smiles, chewing the plump of her bottom lip and knowing full well Bobby’s thinking about kissing her out in the open. And it doesn’t scare her. She welcomes this new feeling. Her lungs fill with air, his grip around her wrist tightening. All she can think about is whether the kiss is to come, electricity building under her skin and ready to burst as soon as their lips brush. She can feel it in him too, heart beating fast and his eyes dropping down to the curve of her smile.

 _Do it_ , she silently dares him and holds his gaze. _Kiss me._

He moves forward, slowly, neither of them daring to look away. His hands glide up to her face, pushing her hood off the top of her head, exposing her to the night air. His hands burn against her flushed cheeks, fingers tangling into her curls sitting at the back of her neck. Oh, it’s too much. Bobby’s eyes on hers, Bobby’s body meeting hers and then Bobby’s lips on hers. He kisses her softly, again and again and _again,_ until they’re heatedly locked together in a sizzling kiss. Hot as an open flame. 

It’s slow and sweet, depths running so deep Bobby is sure it could last forever. It’s everything.

She is everything.

Bobby pulls away first, feeling his heart tug from the loss of her too. Her breath catches and tickles against his lips, starting a shiver that rolls all the way down his spine. She stares up at him, her content face cradled in his hands. She doesn’t look embarrassed or afraid or anything. There’s a peace in her eyes that he’s only seen when they’re alone. He lets his thumb brush over her lips, a smile sweeping across underneath his touch and telling him everything he needs. A thrill shoots through him to see her so at ease.

His hands fall to his sides and beams with his own smile. The moment dims away and he looks up, adjusting back to the chaos around them. And then he freezes.

On the other side of the street, Priya stands with Noah, the latter with his back to them. Even from a distance Bobby can see Priya’s eyes shine where they’re fixed past Noah’s shoulder, completely zoned out from whatever he is rambling on about with excitement. 

Oh, fuck. She had seen them. 

Bobby shares her stare for only a second before it flits down to Poppy, sweetly oblivious as she has her back to the other couple too.

“We should go get a good seat for the fireworks.” Poppy says, still reeling in the aftermath of the kiss as she smooths a hand over his chest. “They’ve got a bonfire going on the beach.”

“Uh,” Bobby mirrors her smile as best as he can, unable to shake the dread washing over him. Finally he nods. “Yeah, okay.”

Poppy smiles, taking his head and spinning on her heel before leading them towards the beach.

Bobby refuses to look over his shoulder, more than aware of Priya’s stare burning the back of his head as they exit the glow of the festival and dive down into the moonlight lighting up the sand.

  
  


**

  
  


**Noah, Priya**

_22:20_

“You ready to go to the fireworks?”

_I can’t believe it._

“Priya?”

_They’re together._

“ _Priya?”_ Noah waves his hand in front of her face. 

When she continues to give a blank stare past his shoulder he turns to see what has grabbed her attention - but there is nothing there. Just a food stall and an empty space in front. Her attention finally snaps back to him when he clicks his fingers, just loud enough to not come across as rude.

“Huh?” She blinks up at him, realising there is a growing shine in her eyes.

“You alright?” Noah asks, unsure. “You zoned out.”

“Yeah, I -” Her chest heaves as she takes a breath, having to quickly come to terms with what she’s just seen. “I’m fine. I was just looking at that menu.” She points.

Noah turns again, frowning as his eyes rake over the makeshift blackboard menu hanging by one of the food stalls. He doesn’t understand, but he figures not to push for answers.

“Right,” He nods, not sure what else to say. “You wanna go down to the beach?”

“The beach?” She repeats, heart pounding in her chest.

“Yeah. For the fireworks.” He looks around, watching people move through the crowd and beginning to make their way over there. “It’s gonna start soon.”

“Oh, right, yeah. Um.” Her words float on a breath as she sighs heavily. “Yeah, lets go.”

Instinctively, Noah links their fingers together. It was something new they’d been doing, but instead of the bliss his touch burned her instead. Her steps falter, alongside her heart skipping a beat. The image of them… Bobby and _her_ … flashes in her mind. 

“Um -” Her voice comes out thick and wavering. “Can I meet you down there?” She asks and wiggles their tangled fingers free. “I just need to go to the toilet.”

Noah gives her a concerned smile. “You want me to wait?”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll catch up!” She fakes a smile. 

  
  


**

  
  


**Rocco**

_22:28_

_Ugh_. Rocco scowls to himself, scanning over the beach as crowds begin to get busier, time ticking down for the fireworks to begin. Groups are cosied up together, sharing drinks and snacks as they settle on the cold sand. From up here he has the best view, but it is awfully lonely. More lonely than he is admitting to say out loud.

He figures he should at least try and find some of the others. It might take his mind off things if he is with the group. Maybe one of Gary’s stupid ramblings will blanket the noise in his head. With a reluctant grunt he gets up, stepping over to the side and very carefully lowers himself down from the roof. His feet find the boxes stacked up by the side of the hut before he jumps down to the deck.

A frightened “ _Woah!_ ” sounds from the other side of the tower. Curious, he walks around and comes face to face with someone familiar.

“Priya?” Rocco asks.

She whips around to look at him, confused. “Was that banging you?” She asks, scrubbing a hand over her face. She’s sat on the floor in a gloomy slump, looking dejected. 

“Are you alright?” He ignores her question and moves to sit down next to her, raking his hand through his hair.

“I’m fine,” She nods, looking down into her lap as her fingers fidget together. “I’m fine.” She repeats, as if she has to remind herself before looking back up at him again.

“You don’t look fine.” He blurts, alcohol steering his words.

Priya lets out a small laugh. “Yeah. I guess.”

“What’s wrong?”

She can smell the whiskey on his breath from here, mixed with the cologne plastered on his neck and chest. Her eyes dip down to where his shirt is open, flapping lightly from the nighttime breeze passing by them. Priya stiffens from a shiver, but Rocco remains unfazed, blanketed by the alcohol. It feels weirdly reminiscent. She wonders if he feels the same.

“Just a shit night.” She repeats his words from when they were out on the front porch during Bobby’s birthday.

Rocco cracks a smile, obviously remembering too.

“Seems ages ago now.” He says, more to himself than anything.

“What?”

“That -” He points to her, trying to reference her words. “Bobby’s birthday.”

“Ah. Right.” Priya nods, letting out another soft laugh. “Another shit night.”

“The worst.” 

There’s a beat of silence. Again reminiscent. The faint sound of people talking down on the beach is white noise behind them.

“Do you wish you could’ve done things differently?” Priya suddenly asks.

The question definitely takes him by surprise, his face so obviously contorting but he decides to play dumb instead.

“What?” He croaks, trying to will his thumping heart rate to calm down.

“With her.” She says. “Poppy.” 

Rocco sighs deeply and twirls his thumbs together. He’s sobering up a little, the chill of the night becoming more apparent the longer he stays still. They both stare out into the black in front of them, streaks of pink and yellow and white shine from the street where the carnival games are located. Faint screams of joy from children can be heard. Rocco takes a breath before turning back to face Priya.

“I don’t think there is anything else I could’ve done.” He says quietly. “I think it was supposed to happen.”

“Supposed to?”

“Yeah,” He nods, eyebrows pinching together. It pains him to even think of the words before letting them out with a breath. “I don’t think I’m the right type of person to be with her.” He says.

“I’m sorry.” Priya shuffles closer, their sides almost touching but close enough to share body heat. The pungent smell of whiskey floats from him and invades her nostrils. She normally hates the smell of alcohol, not being a drinker herself, but… for some reason she finds it soothing.

“It was all surface level. And clearly it didn’t mean much now that she’s -” He pauses and coughs to clear this throat. “We’re just in different places.”

“What place are you in?” She asks quietly.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Somewhere.”

“Distraction helps.” Priya nods, looking away from him. “Not entirely but… it helps.”

“You got a distraction?” He questions, cocking his head to the side. His gaze unintentionally dances over her, making her sit up a little straighter.

Priya looks out over the beach where there is a big crowd now. Not too far down she can see faint shapes moving near a bonfire. Over the crackle of the fire she can hear a distinct laugh, followed by another one that is all too familiar. It makes her heart drop. Just to hear them is painful. Maybe even more painful than watching them together, knowing the kind of joy and love that sits behind that noise.

“I think so.” She answers, turning back to face Rocco.

“You think so?”

“Yeah.” Her tone wavers as she ducks her gaze down to her lap.

“Is it enough?” He asks.

Priya flushes suddenly, face hot even in the stinging cold of the evening. Rocco is staring at her with some kind of intensity that she doesn’t know how to read. She knows he’s drunk. Maybe he’s having a hard time focusing. 

Priya blinks, finding herself staring too and -

_Bang!_

The sound of the first firework.

  
  


**

  
  


**Bobby, Poppy**

_22:30_

Fireworks burst over the darkness, fiery embers bloom against the inky sky and join the stars dotted behind. They burn for just a second before shooting up into air with an unruly impatience, exploding so quickly you’d miss it from just blinking.The vivid colours dance in the air before fizzling away, encouraging the crowd’s enthusiasm as they begin to grow in intensity and vibrance and sound. The air smells like gunpowder and smoke, jarring Bobby back to the night of the group's heist. 

It’s odd. At one point this summer he was running for his life and the next he’s finally… relaxed. 

Bobby is far less than interested in watching the display, his attention drawing over to Poppy’s expression. She’s lit up, smiling hard to herself as she watches the fireworks rain above. His focus flicks around the crowd, his face easing into a smile and warmth creeping up his neck. Everyone is trapped in a trance, heads tilted up to the sky as they watch the brilliant lights dazzle, colours reflecting in their wide eyes.

He watches as an elderly man wraps an arm around what he assumes is his wife’s shoulders, gently pulling her into his side. She smiles up at him for a moment, before turning back to the display. To the left is another couple. Young but older than teens. A woman is sitting up against another woman’s chest, her arms wrapped around her and keeping her warm. Again, his eyes land on another couple, their pinky fingers wrapped together and both of them sitting in close comfort. It’s a calming atmosphere, even with the noise and excitement above.

When he turns back again, Poppy’s already looking at him, a smile pulling at her lips. No words are spoken. She shuffles closer and rests her head on his shoulder, her body perfectly melding with his own. It warms him, even in the chill, as if there are sparks lighting up in his blood too. He’s never known a peace like it. He looks back up at the sky, enjoying the serenity for all it’s worth.

The crowd marvels in it, ooh’s and ahh’s get voiced into the night. Children startle and gasp, paralyzed on the spot as they can’t take their eyes off of the sky. Bobby loses track of time, every streak and burst of colour seems like it goes on forever and forever before it’s replaced with something bigger and brighter and better. 

When the show is over, there is a sudden silence. It’s brief before a ripple of hollers and whoops with a very enthusiastic applause echo from the audience on the chilly beach. Like a switch, conversation is instantly started again, maybe even louder than before, everyone still reeling in the excitement of the display. People start to get up, dusting off cold sand and begin to leave.

Bobby leaps up too, adrenaline pumping through him like everyone else. He holds out a hand and Poppy automatically grasps it before he hauls her up. Just as he opens his mouth, ready to continue the night, there is an interruption from across the beach.

A raised voice. 

A panicked voice.

They whip around to see people gathering down the shoreline, their voices loud and confused. It turns into a commotion as more people start to gather. 

Someone screams.

Silently, people begin to look at each other, trying to understand what is going on. Bobby turns to catch a stranger's confused stare. There’s a growing dread in his features before they turn back to see more people running towards the shore. Without really thinking they begin to move towards where people are gathering too, wanting answers. As they approach the group, the panicked voices become clearer.

_“Is he okay?”_

_“He’s not moving.”_

As they break through the dense crowd, Poppy’s steps falter, a jolt of fear running straight through her and anchoring her to the ground.

“Oh my god,” Poppy breathes. Suddenly her hand is gripping his arm, so tight he feels his blood stop pumping. She turns her head away, burying it against his shoulder.

At first Bobby doesn’t understand, his eyes on the gentle push and pull of the water lapping at the beach like it normally does. But, people were now pointing. A man lies in the wet sand, face pointed up towards the stars. Completely still. Limp. His skin is as grey as the sand beneath illuminated by the moon. Water rushes over him, foam bubbling and spilling into his agape mouth before the tide pulls the water back into the ocean again.

Bobby recognises the face, even from where they’re standing. The missing man from the posters. As clear as day Bobby can see one of the posters being thrust into his hands from the first day he stepped onto the pier. 

_“Is he dead?”_ Someone asks.

_“I don’t know.”_

_“Someone call the police!”_

Poppy stands up straighter beside him, her grip on his arm loosening. Bobby can’t stop staring. 

“There’s a phone in the tower.” Poppy murmurs to herself.

Bobby’s attention snaps down to her and before he even thinks about replying, he shuffles away and starts running towards the lifeguard tower. His heart pounds hard in his chest, legs working on their own as the lifeless face of the man lying in the sand remains scarred into his vision. He can barely think. 

_Just get to the phone. Just get to the phone._

Bobby’s halfway up the ramp, his nerves and mind completely shot. _Just get to the phone_ . The door is slightly ajar by the time he’s reached it. He can’t hear anything over the rush in his ears. He’s beyond his senses, urgency pushing him to do something to help. Anything to help. His skin runs cold as he envisions the face of the man again. _Get to the phone._ A slither of light flies past him into the dark as he pushes the door all the way open to step inside, his eyes landing on some movement in the middle of the room. 

The last of his breath rushes out of his lungs, cutting into the groans filling the space.

_No…_

Priya is sat up on Stirling’s desk, naked legs wrapped around a wide-eyed Rocco looking over his shoulder. They’re both frozen. Caught in the act. Deers in the headlights. Even if Rocco were to move he’d put himself in an even more compromising position. 

For a moment, silence is the only thing between them. They’re trapped.

Bobby stares. Overcome. Reminded of when he walked in on Poppy straddling Rocco on the couch at that house party so long ago. His hands on her skin. Grabbing and squeezing. Moans lost between them. The same stabbing pain resurfaces. His stomach rolls to ignite the same kind of nausea. It’s as if he can feel a knife, staring into the wielder's eyes. Priya’s eyes. The eyes he once adored and that were once filled with so much love, now replaced with hate and bitterness. 

This is all a mess. He can’t even think. He can’t even move.

It shouldn’t hurt so much. _Why does it hurt so much?_

As quickly as he had opened the door, he spins around and slams it shut again, with such force the frame shakes with it and sends vibrations all the way through the deck under his feet.

Shocked, he stands there with his back to the door, not even able to take a step forward. 

He has no idea what to do. 

He looks to the people still gathered on the sand, to the sea, to the moon above. Chills run over his skin, his arms breaking out in goosebumps. He doesn’t know what to feel. His chest is tight and knees locked, his body forcing him to stay still. An acid-like taste overwhelms his taste buds, making it hard to swallow.

He has no idea how long he stands there.

Not a single sound echoes from behind him.

The commotion on the beach is as clear as day, the crowd bigger now with others trying to ward intrigued people away from the scene. Suddenly, the people in the distance turn in blurred figures against darkness. The weight of his shoulders is too much. He staggers forward and grips the railing, legs finally able to move but only to buckle under him. A trickle of something breaks away from his chin, dripping onto the wood where his hands are resting, turning it dark as it soaks in. He lifts his hand to his lips, expecting to find a nosebleed but it comes back dry. He stands a little straighter, his hands roaming further up to find it’s not blood at all but tears.

Eventually, there’s a faint sound of sirens, the rainbow colours of the festival lighting up the streets switching to a pulsing blue and red. 

His heart drops. Someone must’ve got to a phone.

  
  


**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii
> 
> sorry for the delay!! this was a really annoying one to write. but, finally got there in the end 🥴 
> 
> to my cc gals i love u all!!! thank you for being amazing!
> 
> kudos, comments, shouting at me on twitter @l0singface or tumblr @losingface is always highly appreciated! sometimes i draw things and post them!
> 
> thank you for reading!!!! 🖤


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